Darnae poured them wine in small cups and seated Ashok next to Tatigan at the counter. She closed up the shop, lit a few more candles, and rejoined them.
The light made it warm inside the shop, and the wine felt good going down Ashok’s throat. He allowed himself to relax a little in Darnae’s and Tatigan’s company. He even told them, haltingly, about Chanoch and his sentencing. He hadn’t intended to, but once the wine was inside him he couldn’t stop himself from telling the story.
Darnae patted his arm. “I’m sorry for your friend,” she said. “Many shadar-kai revere Uwan like a father, and he has always dealt fairly with the other races. But his law is rigid.”
“It wasn’t always like that,” Tatigan said. “Uwan’s predecessor-”
“Oh, speak not of him, Tatigan,” Darnae said scoldingly. “He was as inflexible in his rule as Uwan, and he had far less compassion.”
“Kelreck is whom we speak of,” Tatigan said for Ashok’s benefit. “Second ruler of Ikemmu. He was assassinated by a mad cleric of Shar, the night goddess. It was believed he acted on his own, but there were rumors that Netheril was trying to plant agents in the city and had planned the assassination for years.”
“Why?” Ashok asked.
Tatigan sipped his wine. “The city had begun to grow,” he said. “Survival in shadar-kai enclaves is one thing; prosperity is quite another. Other races were building a presence in the city. Nothing like it is today, but enough for Netheril to grow concerned. I suspect we haven’t seen the last of their concern either.”
“The stronger Ikemmu gets,” Darnae said, “the more likely it is that more of Netheril’s shadar-kai might wish to defect to the city, start their own lives in service to no master.”
“No master except Tempus,” Tatigan said. “Kelreck’s assassination had more effect than anyone wants to admit.”
“After Kelreck died and Uwan ascended to ruler, things began to change,” Darnae explained. “It started subtly enough-tattoos and carvings on the walls. But then, as Ikemmu swelled in population and grew stronger, Uwan declared it was a sign that the city was favored by the warrior god and marked for greatness. He decreed that only Tempus’s followers could serve in Ikemmu’s military. There was no room for Shar or any other god but the warrior god.”
“The assassination-is that why Uwan is so intent on Tempus being the only religion?” Ashok said. “Because he wants to keep Shar out of Ikemmu?”
“If it were only that, I’d wish him well,” Tatigan said. “Uwan is a shadar-kai of deep faith. But the day he met the cleric, Natan, was not a good day for Ikemmu.”
“The cleric’s visions have given Uwan what he believes are clear directives,” Darnae said. “As long as he has Natan by his side, he believes he’s being guided directly by Tempus.”
“Perhaps he is,” Tatigan said, “but unrest is growing among the other religions. Uwan doesn’t see this.”
“And I’m making it worse,” Ashok said. Vedoran’s bitterness, the people’s fervor … Everything was building to a fever pitch, and Ashok feared something was about to snap. “I should leave the city.”
“Don’t do that,” Darnae said. “If you left, you would be missed, by your companions and by me. Tempus must have something in mind for you to serve this city.”
“Do you have faith in the warrior god, Darnae?” Ashok asked.
Darnae laughed. “I’m a messenger and sometimes I’m a singer,” she said. “These things do not make an army-a poet, perhaps, but not an army. But I see you, Ashok, and I have faith in you.”
“You don’t know everything about me,” Ashok said.
“No, she doesn’t,” Tatigan agreed. He blew on his spectacle lenses and wiped them on his shirt sleeve. “But you can hardly blame her for that. In the span of time, you shadar-kai are such a young race,” he said, “and so much time spent under Netheril’s influence. Now that enough of you have broken with the empire, you’re all scrambling around, trying to survive. You have no time to learn about yourselves.”
“What is there for us to learn?” Ashok said. “We are shadow. We know where we come from, and we know what fate awaits us if we fade.”
“Yes, and that knowledge lessens whatever life you might make for yourselves in between,” Tatigan said. “She’s a singer”-he gestured at Darnae-“but there are no poets among the shadar-kai, no artists, no craftsmen who take such pride in their work as to elevate it to the definition of their race.”
“You’re not being fair, Tatigan,” Darnae said, chiding the merchant. “I know that the shadar-kai forge masters are considered great artists, masters of their craft. What can you say to that?”
Tatigan shook his head. “A small progression,” he replied. “To forge weapons of death in fires that can easily take an eye or a hand … There can be great art in savagery, I grant you, but I was speaking of poets- singers, not battle drums. A battle hymn is different from a love poem.”
“Maybe we’re not capable of poetry,” Ashok said.
Tatigan leaned back in his chair. “Not yet, perhaps,” he said. “You have no rich history to preserve in song or story. But if Ikemmu survives, your race might one day be capable of great works.”
“And if we’re not?” asked Ashok.
“You preserved Darnae’s song,” Tatigan said. “You must have seen some value in it. And anyway, she’s already declared you her hero, so how can you argue?”
“You see?” Darnae said. She grinned and poured more wine.
Ashok drank, and listened while they talked, and for the first time in his life he felt peace without fear. In Darnae’s shop, on the edge of an uncertain fate, he could be himself without fear of losing himself. He only wished the feeling could last.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
When Ashok returned to Tower Athanon he intended only to rest a short while and head out again to try to visit Chanoch in the dungeons. He needed to see the young warrior, to make sure that he wasn’t suffering, and to confirm the feelings stirring in him after his conversation with Tatigan and Darnae.
Despite the halfling’s faith and Uwan’s, Ashok knew his presence in Ikemmu was a detriment to the city. If Vedoran was right, and unrest was brewing among the other religions, Ashok needed to leave before it exploded into an all out conflict.
A dark one waited outside Ashok’s room. He recognized it as the same one who’d brought him food after his nightmares.
“A message for you, come from Makthar,” the dark one said. “The cleric Natan wishes your company. If you cannot speak to him at Makthar, he will be glad to come here.”
Ashok sighed. “Tell him I’ll come to Makthar at once,” he said.
Natan received him in what Ashok thought must be the main chapel room for followers of Tempus. There were no benches, and the room was dimly lit by candles. The sword of Tempus was carved into the wall, as large and as ominous-looking as the day Ashok had first awoken in Ikemmu.
He’d woken up in a new world and emerged from that world a different being-except that he had no idea where he truly belonged. He could not go home, and he could not stay in Ikemmu under the shadow of that sword.
Natan came across the room to greet him. Ashok had expected the cleric to look well given that his sister’s safety was assured, but if anything, Natan appeared even more haggard than he’d been the last time Ashok had seen him.
A creeping fear stole over him, and Ashok blurted out, before Natan could utter any pleasantries, “What’s happened? Is she all right?”
Natan looked briefly taken aback, then his face softened, and he clasped Ashok’s arm. “I knew it was right to come to you,” he said. “Tempus forgive me-I had my doubts about you before, but no longer.”
“Tell me she’s well,” Ashok said.
“Physically, she is well,” Natan said. “In other respects, she suffers, as I’m sure you’re aware.”
“Yes,” Ashok said. “Has she spoken of her ordeal?”
