Scarred Man (36 page)

Myrrhini stared at herself in the mirror. Despite having her eyes gouged out by the Queen, she still had sight — of a sort. Her sockets burned with an inner red fire; it seemed actual flames writhed within them. Everything had taken on the disturbing double image Quetzalxoitl had spoken of.
What is, and what could be.

‘How did this happen?' she asked the mirror. Even her own reflection carried the double image. She could not make any sense of the two images, only notice that they were slightly different.
Am I going to have to wear a blindfold like Quetzalxoitl?
Given the way her head was beginning to ache, she felt it was likely.

A knock at her door made her look away from her reflection.

‘Who is it?' she called.

‘Itxtli.'

‘Come in.'

The achulti pushed open the door and entered. At the sight of her flaming eyes, he hesitated before looking away. Myrrhini lowered her eyes, but
before she did, she saw that Itxtli did not have a double image. Unlike everything else in the room, he was solid, as if the ‘what could be' did not exist for him.

‘What is it?' she asked.

‘The pochteca has left.'

‘The what?'

‘The pochteca, it is sixteen xuauhtlis. Two hundred and fifty-six Agents.'

‘That is a strange number.'

‘Our military structure is based around a single unit of four, forming a simple battle square, each man facing outwards, defending the men to his sides and back. The smallest single unit is the xuauhtli, then we have sixteen xuauhtlis — the pochteca, four pochtecas form a cabacera and two hundred and fifty-six xuauhtlis form a tlatoani. Each level has its own commander.'

‘And you are a …?'

‘Achulti, a leader of sixteen, the lowest commander in the line.'

‘I have read about soldiers, but never understood them; probably most of what I have read are romances and love stories.'

Itxtli gave no indication that he held any opinion of her statement as he stood impassively, as if awaiting an order.

‘How is Maida?' Myrrhini asked. ‘I haven't seen her for a few days.'

‘Maida is causing much disquiet,' Itxtli said. ‘And I think she is rather enjoying it.'

Boredom, while she waits for Keshik to arrive. And Slave, he is close, too.
Her memories of the
man who would be surrounded by peace while bringing so much chaos were mixed. Certainly he was a man unlike any she had ever met or read of. Memories of Hinrik, of the Ce Atli, of the soldiers who had leered at the Eye of Varuun, danced through her mind. Mostly they were memories of humiliation, of pain, but there was tenderness, perhaps even love there, too.

Would she ever find anything like what Maida and Keshik shared? Would anyone ever cross the world to find her? She looked back at the mirror, ignoring the achulti who stood patiently, and regarded her burning sockets again.
With eyes like these?

‘What is Maida doing?' she asked.

‘She and Tatya are roaming the streets of the city, apparently at random, but they are both hunting — I don't know what for.'

I do.

‘And they have arrived,' she whispered.

‘Myrrhini?' Itxtli asked. ‘What was that?'

‘Send word, the Scarred Man has arrived in the city. I want him brought to me as soon as he is found.'

Itxtli went to leave, but Myrrhini raised her hand. ‘No, wait. I am supposed to be able to see anything, let me look.'

She walked to the window and stared down, concentrating not on what she could see, but on the other images. After a short time, she closed her eyes, which made it easier to sift out the conflicting scenes. As the light was taken from her sight, the other world sprang into sharper relief. From her vantage point here so high above the city, she could
look down into the lives of those below. She could see dreams, hopes, aspirations, fears, love, hate, destinies, living and dying. For a while she stood transfixed by the impossible tapestry of humanity spreading out before her.

This was not simply watching people move about their daily lives, this was seeing their lives laid bare in every detail. She saw things that no one but the individuals concerned had any right to see, or wanted to, things that not even those involved could know. As she watched, she saw three men die, or at least make those decisions that would lead inevitably to their deaths.

It was intoxicating, terrifying and exhilarating simultaneously. Why had she never been able to do this before? Had it only been the Queen's attack that had given her this gift?

There. A flash of silver, moving quickly. Peace had stolen unseen into this hidden city named Refuge. And it was armed.

Myrrhini, her eyes still closed, moved away from the window. ‘He is going to someone called Tlatoque.'

‘Which tlatoque?'

‘That is not his name?'

‘No, his rank. There are three tlatoques, but it does not matter. They are all in the same place.' He gave a short bow and turned to leave. As he moved, Myrrhini saw a Warrior's Claw spin through the air and slice cleanly into his throat. He died without a sound, his blood pooling thick and red across the stone floor. She screamed and her eyes snapped open to see him stiffen.

‘What is it, Myrrhini?' he asked.

It was then that she realised she had Seen his death while her eyes were still closed. It was to come. That was why he had had no second image. He had no destiny save to die today.

‘Nothing,' she said. ‘I thought I saw something, but I was mistaken.'

Itxtli left.

Why didn't I say something? Keep him here? Somehow stop him going? Why did I send him to his death?

And send him to his death, she knew, was exactly what she had done. He was going to find this tlatoque and when he did, somehow he was going to die at Slave's hand.

There is nothing I can do about it.

The thought gave her no comfort as she went back to the window and looked down on the city.

‘Where's Maida?' she said.

 

Maida was growing more frustrated by the moment. Myrrhini had said Keshik would be here in this city soon, but so far there was no sign of him. She was getting bored with this city with its broad, clean streets, tended gardens and wide-eyed citizenry. They stared all the time, like they had never seen either a cat or a woman. Admittedly, Tatya was a huge cat and so far Maida had not seen anyone with her hair colour, but that was no excuse.

Tatya rumbled in anticipation at the sound of approaching horses. She enjoyed the effect she had on horses, even the well-trained military ones, and if Maida were to be honest with herself, she could
use the diversion of watching them panic. Tatya sat in the middle of the road and purred. People hurried past, averting their eyes and clutching children close. Maida shook her head in mock dismay at Tatya's action.

‘You aren't going to simply sit here, are you?' she asked.

Tatya's purr deepened. ‘Why not?' she rumbled. ‘You want to find this Keshik and if these are Agents, maybe they can help you.'

‘But you will frighten them.'

‘Can't I have some fun?'

Maida stroked the shapeshifter's huge head and ruffled her mane. ‘Of course you can play.' She hesitated, remembering the room in Leserlang where she had wanted to ‘play' before.
How have I forgotten what she is?
‘But no killing anyone,' she added.

Tatya's purr faded a little.

The Agents trotted around the corner and clattered to an untidy halt at the sight of the huge black spurre. Tatya rose languidly and yawned to show her white fangs, and Maida took a step forward but froze in astonishment.

Hands tied, lashed to a horse's saddle, dishevelled and unarmed, Keshik lifted his eyes to meet hers. His reaction was as fast as it was violent. He whipped around, jerking his arms back and down with the full force of his body, unbalancing the Agent who cried out in surprise and fell heavily. Before his head hit the ground with a disturbingly loud crack, Keshik had lashed out with his foot and kicked the horse's back leg. It shied, causing
Keshik's swords to fall to the ground. He caught one and slashed the rope tying him to the horse.

Keshik was free in a heartbeat. He stood for a moment looking, as if disbelieving, at Maida, before running straight towards her. Maida, for her part, was running towards Keshik with Tatya at her side. The big shapeshifter had shifted from purr to growl, her yawn changing to a snarl. Agents called out, unable to decide what posed the greatest threat: the bounding spurre or the hard-eyed Swordmaster, fully armed and running.

The first three Agents who fell, clutching savage wounds from the swirling swords, decided the others and they turned their attention on Keshik's glittering blades. In moments, he was surrounded, polearms lowered to ring him with sharpened steel. Keshik roared his defiance as he raised his swords to hack at the thrusting weapons.

Metal met metal in a shower of sparks. A three-pronged spear slashed past Keshik's chest, catching in his jerkin and throwing him off balance. He shifted his weight to regain steady footing and slammed his metal blade into the wooden shaft of the spear. The wood splintered and broke. The Agent holding it felt his balance go as the momentum of his thrust was thrown off. Keshik twisted past another heavy spearhead and drove his magical sword upwards to impale the unsteady Agent. Horses whinnied and pranced, Agents shouted as Keshik weaved his way past spears seeking to end his life, parrying some, hacking at others. Agents who found their spears sliced apart started to use the broken hafts as makeshift clubs.

Blows rained down towards Keshik's unprotected head, making him stagger. One struck him a glancing blow on the shoulder. He shouted in pain and dropped to the ground under the blows. For an instant, the Agents were put off guard by his sudden collapse, but the moment was short-lived as he used it to roll aside and spring back up to his feet beside a horse. The mounted Agent had no time to call out as both swords drove upwards. Blood fountained out of his mouth and he collapsed when Keshik pulled them out from under the breastplate.

A scream of horror, cut off quickly, announced Tatya's arrival in the melee. She had sprung from her run and landed full on an unsuspecting Agent's back. Her claws dug in and her weight drove the Agent off his horse. He landed heavily with Tatya on his back. Their joint mass, combined with the momentum of her spring, was enough to crush the life out of him. Tatya stared up at the surrounding men on horseback before selecting her next target. She leapt forward, claws outstretched, into the chest of another man.

In the swirling mass of weapons and blood, no one noticed Slave dart in from the shadows. He sliced through the strong tendons of a horse's rear legs, bringing it squealing down. The Agent died with a swift thrust from the Claw and Slave moved silently on to the next man.

Keshik brought down another Agent with a savage blow that took his leg almost completely off, before continuing his swinging motion to face a bearded Agent wielding a massive war axe. The big man had dismounted and faced Keshik on foot. The other Agents seemed to pull back slightly.

‘Come on, little man,' the Agent growled. ‘See what you can do against a real weapon.'

Keshik flicked his metal blade forward, but stopped the movement short of an attack. Blood shot off the blade and splashed into the man's face. He involuntarily recoiled as the thick, warm fluid stung his eyes. Keshik took advantage and drove both blades in under the Agent's guard.

When the big man fell, another screamed as Tatya ripped him open and a third fell from his horse to reveal a shocking wound from a silent attack. The sounds and the blood seemed to completely dispirit the remaining Agents. As one, they wrenched their horses around and galloped away. Keshik wiped his blades on the blue cloak of a dead Agent before sheathing them. Without another glance at the carnage, he ran towards Maida.

Slave wiped his Claw and held it up to catch the last rays of sunlight. Tatya sat licking her paws, staring at him with a steady gaze.

‘A spurre,' Slave said quietly. ‘What is a spurre doing here?'

‘What is a Scaren warlord doing here?' Tatya countered.

Slave's shock was complete, both at the fact that she spoke and at what she said. For several heartbeats, he could do nothing but stare at her.

‘What?' he finally managed to say.

‘The Scaren are all dead. How can you be here?'

‘How can you say that?'

‘I know the Scaren.'

‘How?'

Tatya shimmered and became the yellow-haired woman. ‘I know the Scaren,' she repeated. ‘And they are extinct. You cannot exist.' As she spoke, she walked towards Slave. Her breathing became heavier and her cheeks grew flushed. ‘You are a warlord,' she whispered. ‘You have the power. It can't be true, but it is.' Tatya came close and reached out a hand to rest on Slave's scarred cheek. ‘Quickly, while you are close — I can feel the power. Speak the words and set me free. Even being close to you I can feel its strength weakening. Quickly,' she repeated. ‘Speak the words.'

‘What words? What are you?'

Tatya scowled. ‘It is there, I feel it. But it needs awakening.' She gave a sad smile. ‘It is worth the risk.' Without warning, she slashed at him. Her hand blurred as it moved, her fingers shifting briefly into claws that ripped into his chest.

Slave hissed in pain and instinctively lashed out with his Claw. It bit deep into Tatya's arm, making her yowl in pain and complete the shift back into the spurre. Slave felt the black rage descend faster than ever before, filling his mind with fury. In the moment before he lost all sense, he heard a female voice scream a name and then everything went black.

‘… how many?'

‘Twenty Agents, more civilians.'

‘And Itxtli as well.'

‘Sssa, he's a loss.'

‘Just the three of them?'

‘Just the three of them. But mainly this one.'

‘And the spurre?'

‘Gone.'

‘Good. What about the woman and the Tulugma?'

‘Gone, too.'

Slave moaned and tried to move but he was bound hand and foot, as well as gagged. His eyes flickered open to look up at the women who were speaking. When they saw he was conscious, they both stepped back a pace.

One woman was wearing a leather blindfold. Slave could not take his eyes off her, guessing who she had to be. She stepped forward and removed his gag, her fingers soft and trembling slightly on his skin.

‘You are the Blindfolded Queen?' he asked.

‘I am Quetzalxoitl, the Blindfolded Queen, yes.'

‘Where am I?'

‘You are in my home.'

‘Keshik?'

‘The Tulugma Swordmaster?'

Slave nodded.

‘He fled with Maida.'

‘And the spurre?'

‘She has also fled. But not with them.'

Slave did not want to ask what had happened after he had lost control again; the conversation he had overheard had told him enough.
Civilians? Innocent people killed? How many had he killed himself? How many innocent people had to die before he could learn to control this fury?

He closed his eyes again.

‘Go and fetch a Ce Atli,' Quetzalxoitl said. ‘I'll stay and watch over him.'

Slave heard the other woman leave. When the door was closed behind her, Quetzalxoitl moved to stand closer to him.

‘Listen to me,' she hissed. ‘You killed my Agents, and you will pay for that.'

Slave's eyes snapped open. The Queen was leaning low over him and speaking very quietly but with vehemence.

‘You are important now,' she went on, ‘to keep that ridiculous woman calm, but the moment I have all I need from her, you die. No one butchers my Agents and gets away with it.'

‘What ridiculous woman?' Slave asked softly.

‘Myrrhini, the Eye of Varuun. She thinks you are important, a bringer of peace or some such nonsense. But you and I know better, don't we, Scaren?'

‘The shapeshifter said I was Scaren.'

‘She recognised you?' The Queen straightened up. ‘That's interesting.' She gave a dismissive shake of her head. ‘It doesn't matter. The only thing that does matter is that you understand your part in all this. You keep her quiet and out of trouble and you live. But the moment you step out of line, or she becomes difficult, you will be killed. Do you understand?'

Slave stared up at her, wondering whether she could see him through that blindfold, so he shook his head without speaking.

‘Don't be stupid!' She slapped him hard across the face. ‘Do your part or I will kill you myself.'

Keshik would try something here. I wonder if it will work for me.
‘You can try,' Slave snarled. ‘But better than you have already tried to kill me and failed.' To his surprise, the Queen jerked back as if she herself had been struck.
Well, well. That is interesting.

Quetzalxoitl made an attempt to regain her composure as she backed away to the door. ‘You remember what I said, Scarred Man,' she said. The faint tremor in her voice gave the lie to the bravado of her words.

Slave said nothing as she left.
I frightened her with a threat. I am wounded, unarmed, tied to a table, and yet she fears my words. Strange.

And my life is now dependent upon Myrrhini.

‘If it wants her dead, we should keep her alive,' Slave whispered. He had been following Myrrhini for a long time, mainly on the strength of those words, and he realised that he had never really
questioned them. What did he know about Hinrik, who had uttered them? He was known to Myrrhini, but Slave did not think she liked him. They both came from the Place of the Acolytes, but what did that mean? Where had the Place been? The Duregs had destroyed it, or so he had heard. It occurred to him that most of what he had done since escaping from Sondelle was as a result of what he had heard. What did he really know?

He knew that he had released something into the world. He knew that it was hunting Myrrhini and expected him to take part in her death.
If I am Scaren, and she is Mertian, that would be a reasonable expectation.

‘If it wants her dead, we should keep her alive,' he said aloud again.

But did she need his help any more? Had she ever?

‘Who wants who dead?' came a voice from the doorway.

Slave turned his head to see who had spoken. It was another woman, older than the other two and not as well dressed. She had short, dark hair and lively brown eyes. In her right hand she carried a large, brightly coloured bag.

‘Talking to yourself is never a good sign, you know,' she said.

‘Never a good sign of what?' Slave asked.

‘Sanity.'

‘I don't understand.'

‘Have you spent a lot of time alone?'

‘Yes.'

‘I thought so.'

‘Why?'

‘I am clever, and I know things.'

‘You have a sense of humour.'

‘Doesn't everybody?'

‘Not Keshik.'

‘Ah. You know, I have heard of him. He sounds like an absolute monster. Cold-hearted killer for money. Nothing but an assassin.' She tutted disapprovingly as she walked close to Slave. ‘Now let's have a look at you,' she said, putting her bag on the table near him. ‘Do you think we need to have you tied up like this?'

Slave shook his head.

‘I don't think so, either.' The Ce Atli pulled a small knife out of her bag and expertly sliced Slave's bonds. ‘What gave you these?' she asked, pointing at the slashes across his chest.

‘Which ones?'

‘The new ones.'

‘The spurre.'

‘Dear me, she could not have been serious, then. I have seen what she can do when she's cross.' She started to clean the blood away. ‘Oh my word,' she said. ‘I think luck must travel with you. How did you ever survive these other wounds?' She leant over him to peer at the scars that crossed his chest.

‘I don't know. I am not entirely sure I did survive.'

‘What gave them to you?'

‘I don't really know that, either.'

The Ce Atli gave him a speculative look then went back to her work. She was very skilled, with strong, confident hands that tended Slave's many
wounds expertly. When she had finished cleaning and bandaging, she pulled several bottles out of her bag.

‘What are you doing?'

The Ce Atli turned quickly. Myrrhini, wearing a hooded cloak with the hood pulled low over her eyes, stood at the door behind her.

‘Just tending to Slave's injuries,' she said.

‘He's had worse. Get out.'

When the Ce Atli did not move, Myrrhini strode into the room, grabbed the bag and threw it out through the open door.

‘I said, get out.'

‘The Queen will hear of this.'

‘If she was of any use, she would have Seen it. Now get out and don't come back.'

Slave sat up to watch the Ce Atli leave the room. She muttered and grumbled as she left, no doubt expecting that no one could hear her words, but Slave heard every one. She was using language that even Slave knew was crude and impolite. When they were alone, he shifted his gaze to Myrrhini.

‘What was that for?' he asked.

‘Those bottles contained a very strong soporific. Her intentions were not clear.'

‘How do you know that?'

Myrrhini threw back her hood to reveal the flames in her eyes. ‘I can See.'

‘How did this happen?'

‘The Blindfolded Queen did it to me.' She paused. ‘There is a powerful magic around this place, an ancient magic put in place to protect the Mertians from the thing the Scarens raised, or the
thing the Mertians raised themselves, I am not sure. It can give a pureblood woman the ability to dwell somehow between this world and what they call the world of what could be, the Eztli-Ichtaca. I can See both worlds at once.'

‘What can you see?'

‘Motives, designs, destinies, possible futures.' She sighed and sat next to Slave. ‘It's all very confusing.'

‘Is this why the Queen sent out her Agents? To find you?'

‘She had a Seeing, like I had, of the darkness rising. But her vision is getting clouded. She Saw me, travelling with the Scarred Man — you — and set out to find me. She needs me to clarify her vision.'

‘Why?'

‘The darkness will engulf the world, and only you can stop it. Her Seeing did not show her your role, only mine.'

‘And what is your role?'

‘To show you yours.'