care and every death felt like a failure.
They were only humans, he told himself. They would have died in a few years anyway. Somehow that made it worse. Perhaps they would get their reward in the lesser heaven but Sardec was finding it harder and harder to believe. There had been no concept of a lesser heaven until the Terrarchs had encountered humanity. Only then had the Prophets started talking about one. It seemed more of a political necessity than a religious truth. He was spending too much time around Lady Asea. Some of her ancient cynicism was rubbing off on him.
He scratched his forehead with the back of the hook, and let out a long sigh. At least the company had been assigned a decent place to dwell, an old fortified mansion on the edge of the poorer quarter near the market square. It had taken some string-pulling to get such a pleasant, defensible place in the overcrowded city but he had managed it. His stock was high with headquarters after the battle of the Abelen Ford, and his credit was good too with those he had needed to bribe.
He had seen that his soldiers were well-billeted and their dependents seemed to have found places nearby. The merchants who followed the army had already found them, and despite Sardec's warning the troops were already selling their loot for pennies on the crown, and using the proceeds to buy booze and food at inflated prices.
He could understand that — when you might be dead by the end of summer what was the purpose of saving? You might as well have a good time now. Sardec was not like that though — the treasures he had found were catalogued and crated, ready to be shipped back to the family estate. His father had been right; war could be profitable if you knew what you were about.
He looked over at Rena, and was surprised at how beautiful he found her. She sat on the bed they shared in the rooms he had taken, running the silver brush he had gifted her with through her thick glossy black hair.
Who had that brush once belonged to, Sardec wondered? Some Terrarch noblewoman? Some rich merchant's wife? It did not matter now. It was hers and her obvious delight in its possession had been recompense enough to Sardec for the small increment of gain it had cost him to give it to her.
She saw he was looking at her and gave him a bright smile. It made his heart leap. There were times when Sardec wished he was able to tell her how much her beauty affected him, but somehow he could never quite break through the reserve he felt he should maintain around a human. He told himself he was being ridiculous. The woman had felt his weight upon her in the heat of passion. To think of maintaining reserve after that was merely foolish, and yet… And yet, he never quite could bring himself to talk about it to her.
She came over and stroked his cheek. There was a tenderness in the gesture that touched him, even as he felt he should repel it. After all, no human was supposed to do such a thing without permission. He forced himself to let out a long breath, to relax.
'What are you thinking?' she asked.
Now was the moment, he thought. Tell her that she is lovely, and she gladdens your heart in a way nothing ever has before and most likely nothing ever will again. 'Nothing,' he said.
'Are you thinking of the dead,' she said, looking at the list. He knew she could not read, but he had told her what the paperwork was for.
'I was,' he said.
'It was not your fault. They were soldiers. It was a battle.' He wished he had not shared his doubts with her, but he had been a little drunk, and a little depressed, and he could not talk about his fears and inadequacies with his fellow officers. They were Terrarchs and they were already too inclined to mock him for being a cripple, for having a human lover, for any number of things. He did not want to give them any more ammunition for their contempt.
'I know. I know, and yet…'
'You are a good man,' she said, sounding almost as if it came as a surprise to her.
'I am not a man, Rena. I am a Terrarch.' She recoiled a little, as if fearing she had offended him. He could not quite get used to that fear in her. He would never hurt her. Yet he knew her fear was well-founded. Some Terrarchs would have had her horsewhipped for making such a suggestion. Not that long ago, she could have been put to death for it. This world was a cruel place for humans, he thought. He looked at his missing hand. It could be a cruel place for Terrarchs too.
He reached out with his good hand and drew her to him. Her lips met his. She led him slowly to the bed.
Rik parried Karim's blow and riposted. The southerner blocked the attack easily. He looked calm and fresh and not the slightest discomposed. Rik's shirt was soaked with sweat, his breath came in laboured gasps, and his hand shook from fatigue. They had been practising for an hour and it was beginning to tell on Rik. Karim was garbed all in black, and a scarf obscured the lower portion of his face. He showed no sign of any fatigue. He was barely breathing heavily.
Karim's return blow sent the sword spinning from his hand. 'Your mind was elsewhere, Master Rik,' he said.
'You are right,' Rik admitted. He had found it best to be honest about such things with Karim. The southerner was an expert judge of his state of mind, at least when it came to the crossing of blades. He glanced around the courtyard of the Palace. A number of Terrarch officers watched them, a few Terrarch ladies as well.
'You can’t afford to be distracted when swords are involved, Master Rik. If this had been a real fight you would have been a dead man.'
'That would be true of any real fight I had with you, Karim.'
'True, Master Rik. For the moment at least — but you are young, you are quick and you have a great deal of promise. Already you are better than many men with a blade. Someday I hope you will be a master.'
'You are very kind to say so, Karim.'
'Forgive me for contradicting you, but kindness is not part of my nature. Truthfulness is. I would not say such a thing if it was not true. Some men are natural killers — you are one of them. It is as if you were born to wield a sword. I suspect you would be good with almost any weapon you picked up, and better than good with those you practiced with.'
Rik frowned. He thought of what Asea had told him of his Shadowblood heritage, that he was a born assassin from a line of born assassins. She supposed his ancestors to be a clan of beings created by a Prince of Shadow to be his personal killers. She wanted him to be hers. He supposed he already was. Of course, she was prepared to pay him well for this. She was already doing so, but her patronage was dangerous. Just being a Shadowblood was punishable by death, if you were discovered. It was yet another thing that gave her enormous leverage over him.
'I am glad you think so,' he said.
'I know so,' said Karim. There was even a hint of warmth in his normally chill voice. Rik decided to ask the Southerner the question that had been on his mind for a while.
'How did you come to Lady Asea's service — if you don't mind me asking?'
'I do not. The Lady told me you would ask me this, and she told me I should answer you if I wished.'
'Do you wish?'
'It is a tale for another time,' said Karim. 'But someday I will tell you.'
Rik noticed that a tall, heavily built man had entered the courtyard. He was dressed as an engineer, and he had a set of rolled up plans underneath his arms. He looked around politely and waited to be recognised. He was a human with the dark swarthy features of a Mazarean. His beard and moustache were imperfectly dyed. None of the Terrarchs present paid him any attention so he hailed a servant.
'Benjario has business with Lady Asea,' the man said in a self-important voice. Rik felt his interest being piqued. The big man had been around to see Asea several times before, always clutching masses of rolled up parchment, inscribed with diagrams and odd notations. At first he had suspected sorcery, but now he wondered if it might not be something different. Benjario was a name he had heard before. He was the madman who believed that one day all men would be able to fly. What possible business could he have with Asea?
Rik decided that he would make a point of finding out in the not too distant future, but right now he had an appointment to meet with Weasel and the Barbarian. He wanted to see them both for old times’ sake and to find out what they were up to. If anybody could give him some idea of what was going on in this city, they could.
