and his shoulders hunch. It was the first time he’d ever shown a hint of weariness, but Ashok saw it, in the posture and in the dullness of his black eyes.
“Cree told me what you saw in the enclave’s dungeons,” Uwan said. “How you found Ilvani. That can’t have been an easy sight.”
“It wasn’t,” Ashok said tightly. He tried not to conjure the faces of the dead shadar-kai, but they came anyway, and he was conscious of the empty dagger sheath at his belt. His blade had been so much a part of him that he hadn’t yet removed it.
“If I had seen that …” Uwan said. He cleared his throat. “A room like that would have driven me mad.”
“So I was,” Ashok said. And he’d reveled in the madness.
“That place where you found Ilvani-those were shadar-kai, but they were not our people,” Uwan said. “They’d lost themselves, driven mad by the lurking shadows.”
“Such a thing,” Ashok said slowly, “would never happen in Ikemmu.”
“Not while I live,” Uwan agreed fervently. “But you must understand … The line we walk … That thread is so delicate as to be terrifying, Ashok. We could become them so easily-without order, without discipline to govern our passions.”
Ashok rubbed his bare wrist. “We cut ourselves, and when it’s not enough we cut each other,” he said.
“Yes,” Uwan said. “Without laws to govern us, we would slay our rivals, then our allies. We would do unspeakable things, just to grab whatever bit of life we could. Our city, our community would destroy itself, just as the shadar-kai in the caves did.”
“They could have allowed themselves to fade,” Ashok said. “I would welcome my soul’s flight before I became master of that slaughter room.”
“Perhaps you would,” Uwan said. “You’re strong. But to give yourself up to nothingness-the shadar-kai are made to resist that fate with everything inside us. It’s not so easy to give up your existence.”
“No,” Ashok said, remembering the misery, the near hysteria in Reltnar when he’d realized Ashok intended to take Ilvani-his lifeline-away. “But Chanoch is different. He made a mistake.”
“He crossed that line,” Uwan said. “We can’t afford to forgive, Ashok. Our nature doesn’t allow it.”
“So that’s it, then,” Ashok said bitterly. “Tempus or the shadows? We’re damned?”
“No. We are shadar-kai,” Uwan said.
Vedoran was leaning against the wall when Ashok stepped outside Uwan’s chamber. They looked at each other across the small span. Ashok tried to control his rage, his desire to hurl himself across the space and take Vedoran by the throat.
“None of the others spoke against Chanoch,” Ashok said.
“I didn’t expect they would,” Vedoran replied. “Tempus’s flock spoke as one.”
“Uwan says you’re to be rewarded handsomely for your service to the city,” Ashok said. “Does it make you happy?”
“Do you know what the ‘reward’ for a sellsword’s service is worth?” Vedoran said.
Ashok shook his head. “I don’t care,” he said, starting for the stairs.
Vedoran’s voice carried after him. “Uwan instructed my master to fatten my purse for a month, to show his appreciation,” he said. “That’s what Vedoran’s honor is worth: a handful of coin.” His voice rose. “What else should a godless sellsword want in life but more coin to please him? He can never be Tempus’s emissary.”
“Cease!” Ashok cried. “That is nothing to me, and you know it. Will Chanoch’s death satisfy your honor?”
“Chanoch is nothing to me,” Vedoran said, mimicking Ashok with a sneer. “Do you think I give a thought as to how that dog sees me? No, this was for Uwan and his god. You and I are Blites, the other races are coin slaves, and Tempus’s followers sit above us all in judgment and contempt. Fine, then. Let them look down from their high places. But by the gods, let Uwan be bound by the same laws that damn me. Let him see how his own faith will be the downfall of his city.”
“What are you talking about?” Ashok said.
Vedoran laughed. “You’ve not lived in this city long enough, Ashok. Do you think there aren’t others who feel as I do? Did you imagine Tempus was the only god in Ikemmu? There are others, and we’re tired of being silenced.”
“You once told me you didn’t want to be controlled by the gods,” Ashok said. “Forgive me, but this newfound empathy is unconvincing.”
“Maybe,” Vedoran said. “But you should think of your own position in this city and where your loyalties lie.”
“I’ve sworn no oaths,” Ashok said. “Nor will I swear any-to Tempus, or to the other gods.”
“Then what will you do, Ashok? Return home?” Vedoran said. His shrewd gaze made Ashok go cold inside. “Do you have a home to go back to anymore?”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Vedoran Left Tower Athanon and weaved slowly through the trade district. He picked a random path and checked often to see if he was being followed. Not that he expected Ashok to try to come after him. He’d been too shocked when Vedoran had left him.
Smiling to himself, Vedoran cut across the stone remains of a cluster of dwellings and ducked inside a two- story building marked as a warehouse belonging to his master’s trade consortium. It was not a warehouse, but his master often used the building in discreet business transactions and encouraged those closest to him to do the same.
Inside on the upper story, there was a room with no windows. A candle burned in a copper dish on the mantle of a boarded-up fireplace, and several chairs were arranged around the fireplace as if it were still a source of heat.
Traedis sat in one of the chairs. He looked up when Vedoran entered the room.
“You’re late,” he said.
“Forgive me,” Vedoran said. “I was meeting with Uwan and Ashok.”
Traedis’s eyes narrowed. “And is it certain?”
“Yes,” Vedoran said. “I confirmed it just now.” The look in Ashok’s eyes had told him all he needed to know. “Ashok’s was the enclave that slaughtered Ilvani’s scouting party. He knew the trail and those tunnels far too well for it to have been otherwise.”
“Amazing,” the cleric said, shaking his head. “Why did no one else have your insight? There were others with you in the caves.”
“All of whom believed they were following a vision sent by Tempus,” Vedoran said. “But if you take the god out of the mission, it was easy to see who was truly leading us.”
“Yet he helped you,” Traedis said. “Ashok betrayed his own people. Why?”
“Because he wanted a better life,” Vedoran said quietly, “an existence that wasn’t shameful to him. I could have given that life to him. But he chose Uwan instead.”
That part burned inside Vedoran almost more than anything else. He’d asked Ashok to consider his loyalties, but in his heart he knew Ashok had already chosen.
“Your life has been touched by many misfortunes,” Traedis said, drawing Vedoran out of his memories. “But this will be a new beginning for Ikemmu and for Vedoran.”
Vedoran nodded. “There is still an obstacle,” he said.
“Natan,” the cleric said. “Yes, I’d thought of that.”
“His visions are disturbingly accurate,” Vedoran said. “He could uncover our plans before we carry them out.”
“If that’s true, have you considered that Natan may already know Ashok’s true identity?” Traedis said.
“If he did, he would have told Uwan long before now,” Vedoran said.
“Not necessarily,” the cleric said. “Not if it meant he could have his sister returned to him safely. We can’t
