know what knowledge he has of Ashok.”
“I’ll speak to him,” Vedoran said, “find out what visions he’s received. Then I’ll decide how to proceed.”
“Wait,” Traedis said when Vedoran moved to the stairs. “I will not see you again until the thing has been set in motion. You must swear the oath before you go, and accept protection.”
Vedoran felt a wave of involuntary disgust. “You want me to swear faith to Beshaba. I’ve told you-”
The cleric laughed. “I don’t need your faith, Vedoran, for what we intend,” he said. “Only the appearance of it. When Tempus’s false emissary is exposed, the shadar-kai will need a rallying point. You will play that role.”
“In Beshaba’s name,” Vedoran said.
“Yes.” Traedis shrugged. “Power shifts, and you will have the recognition you want. Things will be different. We will not abuse the city in Beshaba’s name, as Uwan has done with the warrior god.”
The cleric smiled. Inwardly, Vedoran laughed at the futility of it all. First it was Tempus, then Beshaba, and in the future whatever god won out in the struggle for Ikemmu. Whatever happened, the gods would always have a collar around the shadar-kai.
But at least there, at that moment, Vedoran would choose the god.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
All the warriors of Ikemmu gathered at the base of Tower Makthar to watch Chanoch receive his sentence.
Ashok stood with Skagi and Cree at the front of the crowd. They gazed up at the tower summit, where four obsidian spikes rose like a crown. Purple lightning played between the spikes and arced up to scatter the shadows of the cavern ceiling.
Four figures stood at the top of the tower among the stone spikes and arcane light. Uwan led the way, with Chanoch standing behind him flanked by two guards. Chanoch had been stripped to the waist. His hair blew wildly in the wind, but Ashok could see nothing of his face.
“Why are they having this ceremony?” Ashok said. “We already know the outcome.”
“Tower Makthar is also the tower of Judgment,” Cree said, his manner subdued. There were deep shadows under his eyes. As far as Ashok knew, he hadn’t slept in days. Cree had known Chanoch best and would feel the loss more than any of them.
“Twenty years ago, when the second ruler of Ikemmu died, Uwan stood up there and accepted the trial to take his place,” Skagi said. “You stand among the spikes, and if the lightning doesn’t strike you dead, you’re deemed worthy to rule. Clean. Simple.”
“But who makes the judgments?” Ashok asked.
“The gods,” Skagi said, but he sounded uncertain. “According to the first shadar-kai who came to the city, the tower was used for that purpose by those who held the city last.”
“Tempus’s angels,” Ashok said, remembering the carvings on the tower, the single eye gazing down from Tower Athanon that saw all of Ikemmu. “Or something else.”
“Uwan’s preparing to speak,” Cree said, looking up at the tower.
“Will the lightning kill Chanoch?” Ashok asked.
Skagi shook his head and spat. “No, he’ll be banished to the caves, to the chambers above where they keep the animals,” he said. “They’ll chain him to a wall in the dark and wait for him to fade.”
“What?” Ashok said, recoiling. “He’ll go mad.”
Cree shook his head. “They call it a quiet death. It’s not painful,” he said faintly, “or so I’ve heard.”
“Send him to the shadows,” Ashok said, horrified. “What of his soul?”
Skagi shot Ashok a warning look as Cree flinched. “He’s a strong one, and his faith in Tempus has never wavered,” Skagi said. He put a hand on Cree’s shoulder and shook him. “The warrior god will take him home, eh brother?”
“That He will,” Cree said, but Ashok heard no conviction in the words.
“Godsdamn Vedoran for his vile tongue,” Skagi murmured. His expression was grave as he watched the proceedings at the top of the tower.
Uwan was addressing the crowd, but Ashok didn’t want to listen to the words. He didn’t want to hear Tempus’s name shouted above the wind. He turned and left the yard, heading for Tower Pyton and Hevalor. He needed to be away, and there was only one person’s company he thought he could stand.
It was late when Ashok arrived at Darnae’s shop. He half-expected her to be gone to her rest. He knew the humans and other races kept a different routine from the rest of the city. It seemed they required more rest than two shadar-kai put together, and they savored the tranquility that came with sleep in a way Ashok could not comprehend.
The other races did not bear the burden of rest and calm potentially turning into a battle against the shadows, Ashok thought. He knew that, yet he felt a powerful, gnawing envy when he considered Darnae in that light, and he thought he understood a little better the enmity the shadar-kai bore for the other races.
The candles were lit as usual when he entered, but Ashok was surprised to find that Darnae was not alone in the shop. A human man sat at her counter with a glass of wine in one hand and a quill tucked in the other. The quill he held over a sheet of parchment while Darnae looked on from the other side of the counter. Neither of them noticed his entrance.
“That’s an interesting list you’ve got this time, Tatigan,” Darnae said.
The name rang familiar to Ashok. Then he remembered. Skagi and Cree had mentioned the exotic goods merchant, the one responsible for bringing the Cormyrian wine to Ikemmu. Tatigan, the merchant who wore spectacles with green lenses. Ashok saw them, glinting darkly in the candlelight. They obscured the human’s eyes.
Tatigan had a finely trimmed black beard with streaks of gray running through it. His hands as they moved over the parchment were graceful, steady.
“You have company, Darnae,” Tatigan said without glancing up from his writing. He spoke in a clipped, lightly accented voice. “You should pay better attention.”
Darnae looked up, and her eyes lit up with pleasure. “Well, and you’re right, Tatigan, I’ve no manners at all. Come, look up from your list and meet my friend Ashok.”
“Ashok?” Tatigan said. He raised his quill and looked at Ashok with interest. “I’m hearing that name spoken all over the city. Does it belong to you?”
Uncomfortable, Ashok nodded. He hadn’t wanted such attention. “I’m sorry to disturb you,” he said to Darnae. “I’ll come back another time.”
“Nonsense,” Darnae said. She came forward and reached for his arm. He put his hands at his sides so she could grasp one and pull him over to the counter. “I haven’t seen you since you returned from your journey,” she said. “Are you well?”
“Yes,” he replied. He hoped she wouldn’t ask him for stories about where he’d gone or what he’d done on that journey. He didn’t want to lie to her, but he could never tell her about riding the nightmare down the tunnel, about the trampled bodies in his wake. He could never tell her any of that. “Are
“Oh, yes,” she replied. “Tatigan, Ashok is the one I was telling you about-that night at Hevalor. You remember?”
“Hmm,” Tatigan said, seeming to want to go back to his list. “I do remember. You and the rest of Ikemmu are all in an uproar over this one. Uproar, especially when it involves a war god, is rarely a good thing for business.”
“Tatigan,” Darnae said. “Be polite.”
“Very well,” Tatigan said. “Darnae called you a hero, Ashok. Now the city calls you Tempus’s emissary.” He lowered his spectacles so he could look at Ashok over the gold rims. “Tell me, which is it?”
“Neither,” Ashok said.
“Then be welcome,” Tatigan replied. “Darnae, get him a drink while I finish this list. Then we’ll talk.”
