The Archon's Assassin (47 page)

“Are we going to be all right, laddie?” Nameless said, striving to keep the fear from his voice. First sign of weakness, he was a dead dwarf. He knew that for a fact. Why hadn’t he seen it before? The assassin had it in for him, he was sure of it. And the others: the way Galen was staring at him. The raise of Albert’s eyebrow. Even Ludo’s pretend concern as he asked, “Nameless?”

Ekyls prowled behind Galen like a threat. And Rhiannon. Even Rhiannon looked like she was in on some big shogging secret.

Shadrak nodded; did his best to soften his face with a smile. He lowered his eyes and said, “Yeah, we’re all right, mate.” Under his breath, he may have muttered, “Never shogging better.”

THE FOOLISHNESS OF OLD MEN

I
t was a shog sight warmer in Lorgen’s tent, but Rhiannon didn’t miss the thickness of the tension that rolled off the big man. The shadows of his people gathering outside danced on the canvas like black flames. Probably, they just wanted to listen in, but she couldn’t be too sure. Callixus’s sword seemed to yell at her to get out while she still could. When she glanced at Nameless for reassurance, the way he gripped his axe told her he was thinking the same thing.

Albert gave the impression of a truculent schoolboy who’d been caught doing wrong, and didn’t give a damn.

The dragoon—Galen—folded his arms over his chest, like a man about to confer with a fellow general—not that he was a general. Far from it. Rhiannon knew her soldiers, and he was a grunt, through and through.

The tattooed savage skulked behind him like a dog that knew its place.

Shadrak stood with the little man in the feathered cloak. Together, they reminded her of a couple of evil dolls.

Ludo was the only one who appeared unaffected by the atmosphere. He was as tall as Lorgen, though wiry where the other was broad and densely muscled. His eyes widened above his glasses, an encouragement for Lorgen to say what was troubling him. Because something was. His entire body shouted it.

When Lorgen spoke, Rhiannon was taken aback, because he addressed her.

“This protection you speak of providing,”—there may have been derision in his tone—“am I to understand your aim is to ward against the Liche Lord?”

Ludo shook his head.

Before Rhiannon could frame a reply, Lorgen pressed on.

“And this ‘something’ you seek,”—now he was speaking to Nameless—“it must be very important to you. To you all.”

Albert let out an exaggerated whuff.

Nameless said, “Well, I wouldn’t—”

“So what if it is?” Shadrak said.

“Now, now,” Galen said. “Hear him out. What is troubling you, Lorgen?”

Lorgen chewed over his reply before he gave it. “Whatever you think you’re doing, messing with Otto Blightey, let me tell you, it is folly.”

“Shog you,” Shadrak said.

Lorgen stiffened, but Galen’s voice lashed out. “Shadrak!”

The midget flashed him a glare and pointedly raised one finger, like he was counting.

Galen coughed, and for a moment, he wavered. But then he licked his lips and said, “Lorgen, we are all grateful for your help, but what you need to understand is—”

“What I understand,” Lorgen said, “is that your presence here imperils my people. We are hunted. Continuously. What happened at the castle, though, is certain to intensify the Liche Lord’s efforts. The last thing we need is for you to provoke him further.”

“So,” Rhiannon said, “we should just leave, is that what you’re saying?” That suited her fine. Least then she’d have kept her end of the bargain: made sure Ludo was safe. Maybe that would be enough for the Archon to deliver on his part. “Not a problem, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Nameless?” Ludo said. “After all, this is about you.”

Rhiannon caught Shadrak watching the dwarf intently, like a big shogging deal hinged on how he answered.

“I put you all at risk back there,” Nameless said, turning the eye-slit of his helm on each of them, until it came to rest on Rhiannon. “And I’ve no wish to drag you into my problems, lassie.”

“So, this has been a waste of my shogging time?” Shadrak said. “Is that what you’re saying?”

“Not just yours,” Albert put in.

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Anger tinged Nameless’s voice, but he swiftly tamed it. “I would say we should turn back now. Your lives are too precious to risk in pursuit of… of what? A half-baked plan to free me from this helm? So I can get back some sort of life and pretend it didn’t happen? That Arx Gravis didn’t happen? You see, I’m not even sure I want what Aristodeus says I should want. This is what I deserve.” He rapped the helm with his knuckles. “The only thing is, I think I may already have come too far.”

“It’s never too late to turn back,” Galen said. “Least not till battle is joined.”

Lorgen grunted his assent, but worry swept his brow.

“What do you mean too far?” Rhiannon said.

Nameless held up one gauntleted hand. “I can’t get them off.”

“So?” Albert said. “It’s not like you were planning to do needlecraft, is it?”

“And I’ve started to change.”

“Change how?” Shadrak took a step toward the dwarf. He was trying to look concerned, enquiring, but something about his bearing told Rhiannon there was more to his question than he cared to show.

“I’m not myself, laddie.”

“Tell me about it.” There was no humor in Shadrak’s voice.

“I don’t think I can go back,” Nameless said. “And I can’t stand what’s happening to me. It’s kill or cure now. I have to go on, but I don’t expect anyone to come with me.”

“Then you are decided?” Lorgen said.

“Indeed,” Albert said. “I’ll just gather my things and scoot on back to—”

“Aye, laddie,” Nameless said. “Is that going to be a problem?”

Lorgen’s chest heaved, making him seem even more massive.

Rhiannon’s fingers curled around the hilt of the black sword.
Go on
,
it seemed to urge.
Gut the shogger.

“Then I ask that you give us time,” Lorgen said. “To break camp, and separate our path from yours.”

“We will, laddie,” Nameless said. “Or rather, I will. The rest of you should go back.”

When Shadrak started to protest, Nameless said, “I’ll pay you for lost time.”

“With what?” Shadrak said. “Forget it. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

It wasn’t clear if he was being funny. Nameless seemed to think so, and gave a hollow laugh.

“Thank you, laddie. And forgive me for my earlier mood. I’m not myself. It’s good to know who my friends are.”

The corner of Shadrak’s mouth twitched, but he said nothing. Instead, he drew his cloak about him, as if it had suddenly grown cold in the tent.

“But we can still go?” Albert said. “Wait for you at the plane—”

“Not a chance,” Shadrak said. “You even think of taking my ship again…” He stopped himself, but the look Albert gave him was sharper than any blade. “We all agreed to this, and we’re all going to see it through.”

“Fair enough,” Galen said.

Ekyls growled.

The little man in the feathered cloak steepled his fingers in front of his nose. His black eyes were inscrutable, but nothing about his demeanor said that he objected.

Ludo, though, took off his glasses and gnawed thoughtfully on one of the arms. “There has to be another way. I won’t pretend to understand your need, or the philosopher’s,” he said to Nameless, “but I can see that it is great.”

The helm bobbed, and Nameless’s shoulders slumped. He seemed somehow diminished by the admission.

“But what do we know about the peril we face?” Ludo said. “What do we
really
know?”

“Shog all,” Shadrak said. “Which is kind of my problem. I thought that’s what we were doing earlier: getting a look at those spikes; checking out the castle, not fighting the shogging battle to end all battles.”

“Know your enemy, wot?” Galen put in.

“Exactly,” Shadrak said. “Know him better than he knows himself, then cut his balls off when he ain’t looking.”

Lorgen scoffed at that. “You have no idea what you’re up against, do you?”

“I think that I might,” Ludo said. He resituated his glasses on his nose and let out a long sigh. “But still, I would caution against demonizing the foe. We have to understand the enemy, not merely revile him. We have to know what makes him tick.”

“Then I’ll make it easy for you,” Lorgen said. “Pain. Suffering. Sadistic pleasure. Blightey is evil to the core, and anyone who thinks otherwise will quickly learn the truth. It’ll be a sharp lesson, I can tell you. A stake up the shogging arse.”

“Ah,” Ludo said with a wag of his finger, “but Blightey wasn’t always that way. None of us starts out bad.” He swept the tent with his gaze.

Rhiannon flinched when she thought he was singling her out, but if anything, his eyes lingered longest on Nameless, or maybe even Shadrak.

“Bollocks,” Lorgen said. “Think what you shogging like, but my people are out of here come sunrise. “Keep the shelters Stane and Yardy put up for you. Least if you’re intent on dying, it won’t be from the cold. I don’t want that on my conscience.” He took a step toward Ludo; looked right into the adeptus’s face. “You’re a clever one, right enough. I can tell that from the way you speak, that book you read; but let me give you a word of advice: dance with the demon, and he’ll drink your soul; guzzle it down along with every last dreg of hope, humanity, and dignity remaining to you.”

Ludo swallowed and glanced at Galen for support.

The dragoon was nodding his agreement with Lorgen, but quickly came to attention and narrowed his eyes.

“Your funeral,” Lorgen said, and then he strode to the tent flap and held it open. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to catch some sleep before we break camp.”

***

Outside, Lorgen’s people must have heard all they needed to, and were ducking into their tents, grumbling and shaking their heads. Any goodwill they might have had guttered like the fires left untended around the camp.

“Miserable scutting shoggers,” Shadrak said. “I say we get this over and done with. Coming?”

“No, laddie,” Nameless said. “We wait until morning. I gave Lorgen my word.”

“Whatever,” Shadrak said. He stalked off to one of the newly erected shelters and slipped inside.

“Am I bunking down with you?” Albert said, scurrying after him.

“Shog that,” Shadrak said, coming out again. “I’d sooner find myself a tree to kip in.” He held the flap open for Albert, then glided into the forest like a wraith.

Galen and Ekyls entered another tent together. That left only one more.

Ludo raised his eyebrows at Rhiannon. “An adeptus must be beyond reproach,” he said with a grin. “It’s yours, my dear. I’ll take my chances with Albert. But before you go, we should talk.”

Rhiannon nodded, and they went to sit by the remnants of the largest fire, the only one still giving off any warmth.

“I need to know what is at stake,” Ludo said. “Galen and I have been quite swept away by events since stepping through Aristodeus’s portal. It’s all still very new to us. Even here, so close to home.” He looked up at the cloud-choked sky, where the moon was little more than a corona of filth. “Three moons on Aethir,” he mused. “Who’d have thought?” Suddenly, he speared her with a look. “You know he still talks about you, don’t you?” When she looked blankly back at him, he said, “Shader.”

“Shader?” She was about to ask how the shog he knew about Shader, when it hit her with a jolt. “Ludo! He mentioned a Ludo who helped him get away—”

“I used to teach him,” Ludo said. “First during his Elect formation; later at the seminary. One of my best pupils. Sharp mind. Keen as a blade.” He peered over the top of his glasses to highlight his little joke.

Rhiannon clenched her jaw and willed him to go on.

“Got himself into a terrible twist over Bernini’s paradox, I can tell you,” Ludo said. His face glowed as he remembered, but it was quickly plunged back into shadow. “I’m sorry. I’m probably confusing you.”

“I know about Bernini,” Rhiannon said.

“You do?”

“I was a postulant, in Sarum.”

“Ah,” Ludo said. “I see. And then the child.”

Rhiannon looked away and muttered, “I left long before that.” Long before the flight from Sahul and the fall of Aeterna. Even before that first fateful sip of champagne in Aristodeus’s ivory tower.

Ludo respected her need for silence. After an age, he said, “So, he told you about the Judiciary. Told you what they did to him.”

“He told me,” Rhiannon said. On that fateful reunion at Hallow. If nothing else, it had confirmed her in the choices she’d made. Turned her back even more fully on the Templum.

“I probably shouldn’t have gotten involved,” Ludo said.

“You regret it?”

He dipped his head in thought for a moment, and then said, “No. But the right road is seldom traveled without a toll.”

“You’re not wrong there.”

“This,” Ludo said with an expansive gesture, “is my penance. Well, more accurately, Aethir was to be my punishment, a kind of exile. Oh, they dressed it up as more than that. Said it was an opportunity to evangelize, but the Ipsissimus and I know each other well. I’m under no illusions as to what brought me into this. The only wonder is the magnitude of what I’ve gotten into. This business with Nameless: I’ve picked up a little, but I don’t even know the half of it. And coming here, to Verusia. To Blightey. It’s like entering the world of a fairy story. Only…” A haunted look came into his eyes. “Only, there are no fairies. Just a dwarf, Shadrak and Bird, and…” He shut his eyes and took a few short breaths. “Bodies on spikes.”

Rhiannon leaned in, touched the back of his hand; withdrew when he flinched.

He turned his head to look at her. “And the Archon is real. At least, that’s how it seems. Is this part of Shader’s thing? Is he caught up in this?”

Rhiannon did her best not to sneer. The only thing Shader was caught up in these days was a bottle. If he’d been more than a drunkard, more than a useless scutting priest, he might have done something; might have prevented Aristodeus from snatching her and her daughter.

“No. No, Shader’s nothing to do with this. He gave up on Aristodeus and his scheming a while back. Now the bald bastard’s just screwing with the rest of us.” Not strictly true. He was still trying with Shader. The wolf-men were testament to that.