Rise of the Red Harbinger (46 page)

“I can help the House of Darian. I stopped hunting and killing Descendants years ago. You are right, my crimes are against the Orijin himself. But even the Orijin made clear that we will all be judged by man before we are judged by Him. So sit there and judge me. But I have repented. I have faced my sins and have vowed to change. The Orijin knows there is goodness in my heart, otherwise I would not have this Mark in the first place. And before you label me a hypocrite, perhaps you should look in the mirror.” Marshall knew his annoyance was visible at that remark, but Garrison would have no way of knowing about his reflection. “Were you sitting here comfortably while your village was destroyed?”

Marshall could barely contain his anger. “No…”

“Let me finish. I am not done. During my journey down here, I met Taurani on the way. We fought alongside one another, despite our different views. Despite my crimes. They knew where I was headed. They vowed to help me get here before setting off on their own journey.” Marshall’s anger cooled and transformed into curiosity and intrigue. But Garrison spoke again before he could decide what question he wanted to ask first. “And despite all that, you were living here comfortably, were you not? Eating a nice hot meal while three of them risked their lives to get me here. You slept in a nice warm bed while we hid in trees, while Kavon accepted death in order to let me, Yorik, and Marika escape.”

Marshall jumped up to meet Garrison’s eyes. “What were the names you said? You said Yorik, Kavon, and what was the last one?”

“Marika?”

“And where is she? Where did she go? You said Kavon died, but you, Marika, and Yorik moved on and they helped you get here. Where did they go? Tell me now?”

“What is it to you, coward? You abandoned them.”

“I am the only one of my people who was able to fight back, you damn imbecile! I fought one of Jahmash’s generals with an arrow in my shoulder. Three of us engaged him with swords and I am the only one who survived to tell of it. I did not flee our village, Your Majesty. The Descendants found me there, unconscious, and brought me here. I woke up a week later. I did not ask to be here. More importantly, where are Yorik and Marika? Marika is my mother. Yorik my uncle. Since waking here, I have vowed that I would find my mother. I have already buried my father and two sisters. I knew my mother would still be alive. But my uncle as well – that is incredible news.

“So please,” Marshall did not bother to hold back the tear that formed in his right eye. “I apologize for judging you and for speaking to you so offensively. But please, where did my mother and uncle go after the helped you to get here? I need to find them.”

Garrison dropped to his knees and looked at the ground. After a moment, he looked up at Marshall, his eye glistening. “You never told me your name, but I know that it is Marshall. I know it because Marika spoke of you. She assumed you were dead. That is why she fought so ardently to protect me. She knew we were of a similar age and refused to let me die. It is my turn to apologize to you, Marshall. Yorik died fighting our attackers. It took four men to bring him down. And your mother–she sacrificed herself so that I could cross the Serpent and flee the remaining soldiers. She turned the river to ice, and they killed her right after.” Marshall dropped to his hands and knees. He heard nothing else that Garrison said. He punched the stone ground for so long that he could no longer feel his hands, despite both of them being misshapen knobs of blood.

Chapter 18

The Son of a Daughter

From
The Book of Orijin,
Verse Twenty-Eight

Envy not those around you. Each of you has a story. A hardship. A weakness. A secret.

Vasher Jai slowly
exhaled a puff of tambaku from his pipe. He always used the kind that was infused with mint when celebrating, and because his victory came in Fangh-Haan, he bought a bag that used Fangh-Haan mint. The flavor was stronger than the Shivaani mint, but also sweeter. “Sweeter flavor for a sweeter victory,” he mumbled to himself.

“I’m sorry?”

He had temporarily forgotten that Maven Savaiyon sat beside him. “Nothing. I was merely appreciating my tambaku. Last offer. Are you sure you don’t want to at least try it? It is not often I share tambaku this good.”

Savaiyon smiled. “Once again, no thank you. My father smoked tambaku every day that I can remember. Anything that would make a man cough so much cannot be good for him.”

Vasher knew that that was an indirect hint that he should stop. Back at the House, a few of the boys there would be more than happy to share. He actually looked forward to bringing back the Fangh-Haan mint. He normally met with Baltaszar, Lincan, and Desmond to share a pipe on Abraday evenings. Vasher looked forward to returning to his friends. He had been on this mission for a month, cut off from anyone he knew. “Why exactly are you here with me? You could have easily waited to come here once I was ready. And you don’t seem like the type to watch beasts fight to the death.”

Savaiyon looked around at the other people sitting in their vicinity, then lowered his voice. “Truthfully, I only want to take in Sundari. It is quite literally the only city in Ashur that I have not visited.”

Vasher nearly scoffed, but kept it in. “But you are Shivaani. How is that possible? Not even once?”

“Well yes, I came once with my father when I was much younger, but I did not have the luxury of taking in the city. And since then, I have always felt insecure about coming here alone. News travels fast to Gansishoor and all Shivaani love to gossip. I would bring shame to my family if they heard I walked these streets. As far as anyone here knows, I am here so that my desperately curious nephew can place a few bets on a silberlow.”

“I see. So I am your nephew, then?”

“Most of Ashur thinks all Shivaani look the same. No one here will question it. Besides, if someone questions us, all you have to do is persuade them otherwise. Is that not your specialty?”

Vasher waved off a man selling pastries. “That is why I am here celebrating. But you are not very creative. I have been to these pits dozens of times. People likely recognize me. Growing up, coming here was the only way to have my tambaku without my mother finding out.” Vasher looked around him, now paranoid. Nobody else bothered to glance at him, even if they had heard him speak. They were too busy watching a vrschiika–a giant scorpion indigenous to the largest island of the Wolf’s Paw–use one claw to clamp down a twenty-five foot long bhujanga, a venomous serpent known for hiding in the caves of the Shivaani Mountains. The bhujanga slithered and writhed to get free, which only deepened the gash from the vrschiika claw. The vrschiika used its other claw to pierce the giant snake’s skull, driving it deep inside and then ripping the bhujanga’s head in half with ease. Vasher shuddered. He peered at Maven Savaiyon from the corner of his eye; the man looked down at his hands, showing the smallest evidence of discomfort. “If you’d like to leave, I would not object. Give me a few minutes to finish my tambaku, though.”

“I will wait for you outside the nearest gate. Then you will explain to me your upbringing and the Daughters of Tahlia.” Without hesitation, Savaiyon arose and descended the arena steps.

Vasher did not mind the solitude. He preferred to focus on the tambaku and savor it as much as possible. Any companion would take away from that. He supposed that was why he had always come here to smoke. Nobody bothered him and so many others smoked as well. He blended right in, even at an early age. He remembered often resenting his mother for having to sneak off to the beast pits to smoke, but as he matured he understood why she did not approve. The more he analyzed and spoke about his upbringing, the more Vasher realized how different it had been from every other child of a Daughter of Tahlia.

“Daughters of Tahlia,” he chuckled. His laugh was more at himself than anything else, though he looked around to see if anyone had taken notice. Vasher then remembered that Savaiyon was still waiting and arose to go meet him. He brought his pipe with him, certain that Savaiyon would not object. He easily eyed Savaiyon leaning against one of the arena’s stone walls. Savaiyon was often the tallest man in sight. “You blend in quite well.”

Savaiyon pushed off from the wall and initiated a walk down the busy main road. “Save the humor. These streets are too busy for anyone to care about us. Let us go watch the snake charming women.”

Vasher felt compelled to correct him, “Daughters of Tahlia.”

He’d grown up walking through the street markets, helping the adults take wagers on beasts, scampering after his mother and the other dancers. His mother was the only dancer that allowed her child to be involved with their preparation. Then again, she was likely the only Sundari woman ever that allowed her child to stay in contact with his father. But Vasher never shared that secret, so he had no idea if any other children were allowed the same leniency.

He had been at the House of Darian for just over a year, though Marlowe had sent him on this mission over a month ago. In his time at the House, Vasher paid close attention to the customs and ways of others, and often times inquired with others about habits in other nations. He found it intriguing, how others lived and the things they deemed important. Thus far, he had yet to find any culture, nation, or town that functioned even partially like Sundari.

Even aside from the chaos of the beast pits and men from all over Ashur flocking in to see the street dancers, family life alone resembled nothing from any other culture. Vasher inhaled another puff of tambaku very slowly. He held it in his mouth for a moment, and then softly released it through a thin opening in his lips. He was enjoying the Fangh-Haan mint more than the local variety.

They walked a few blocks in silence before Savaiyon finally spoke up. “You said that you are celebrating. Does that mean that Fangh-Haan has agreed to support the House?”

Vasher gave Savaiyon a sideways glance. “Yes.”

“Yes is not good enough. You know that. What of this alliance? Not supporting the king is one thing. But will the Anonymi fight for us?” Vasher looked at him and was about to say something, but then closed his mouth again. “The truth, boy. If you have this much trouble telling me the truth without your manifestation, then how do you plan to tell Zin Marlowe?”

Vasher rolled his eyes. “Fine. The Elders of Fangh-Haan have agreed to shift their allegiance from Cerysia to the House. But they do not speak for the Anonymi. The Elders made it perfectly clear that, while the Anonymi reside within the nation of Fangh-Haan, the Anonymi govern themselves. Fangh-Haan has no jurisdiction over them.”

Savaiyon’s eyes narrowed. “So why then do you consider this a victory? Clearly you did not succeed with the more difficult part of your mission.”

Vasher smiled and spoke insistently. “It is a victory for every other Descendant except Zin Marlowe. Including yourself. Do you not see it, Maven Savaiyon? If Marlowe cannot rely on the Anonymi for protection and support, then sooner or later he will have to loosen his reigns and give us more allowances. We are all tired of not being able to train in combat. Look at the two of us! If we were to be attacked on these streets, what could we do to fight back? Even with our manifestations, our only options would be for me to persuade our attackers not to fight us while you create a doorway for us to run away. If Jahmash does return in our lifetime, how are we even close to being prepared to fight back? It’s as though everyone takes the threat of Jahmash seriously except for Marlowe.

“Most Descendants who can use their manifestations for combat would love the opportunity to learn how to do just that. So while Marlowe’s mission components were not fulfilled, I consider this a victory for us. And for all the others back home who are tired of being treated like children.”

“We will have to meet with the Anonymi.”

“Say that again?” Vasher could hardly believe what he’d heard. “Are you truly suggesting this? One does not simply walk into the Anonymi fortress and demand to meet with them.”

“Marlowe entrusted you with a mission. You have not fulfilled his request. It is that simple.”

Vasher stopped himself just short of glaring at Savaiyon. “Whose side are you on?” His tone was more accusing than he intended.

“Remember yourself, Master Jai. I am not some casual friend of yours. I am on the side of the entire House. And aside from that, I know Marlowe much better than you do. When you return and tell him exactly what happened, he will tell you to return and speak with the leaders of the Anonymi. He will not care how you arrange such a meeting, but he will expect that you do as he says. You stand here complaining about the horrors of your living conditions, and yet you have the luxury of relaxing in the city where you grew up, watching beasts fight and smoking your pipe. Do you know how many Descendants, how many of your friends, would sacrifice anything to be able to return home for even an hour?

“I am not telling you this because I am against you. I am saving you the trouble of returning to the House and losing Marlowe’s trust. If you return now, it will be a waste of time for both of us. We will stay here tonight, and tomorrow we will develop a strategy for arranging this meeting. In two days, we will make our attempt to speak with the Anonymi. Understood?”

“Fine.” It wasn’t an argument Vasher could win. Sometimes he wondered what the point was of having a manifestation that could persuade people, if he lost most of the arguments that mattered, anyway.

“Good. Now I suppose we must hurry. The Daughters of Tahlia await and we no longer have a great deal of time for you to tell me about them.”

Vasher chuckled as he scurried to catch up. “They await? What is your obsession with them? Are you in love with one of them or something?” A horrible thought popped in his head of Savaiyon fancying his mother. “Never mind. Seriously, though, what is your fixation with them? All they are, are a bunch of dancers–very good dancers–that do some crazy things with snakes.”

“I am simply curious. I have heard many stories of them and have never had the opportunity to come here until now. You can call it a learning experience.”

“You can call it a learning experience. I’ll call it something else. Do you think that two days will be enough time to develop a sound plan for the Anonymi? Even if I use my manifestation to try and persuade them, would it even work on them? I have heard that they are not affected by certain manifestations. And how do we even know where to find them?”

Savaiyon put up a hand to stop him from talking. “Leave finding them to me. I have certain…correspondences. We will create several plans. Neither of us knows what to expect in this situation. Therefore, we must be prepared for everything. We will attempt to convince them in many ways, and will simply fall back on a new plan every time something does not work out.”

Vasher stifled a protest. There was only so much planning they could do. The Anonymi would only sit and listen to them for so long. Instead of responding, he walked beside Savaiyon the rest of the way until they reached one of the squares where the Daughters of Tahlia performed. They could have stopped at other sections, but Vasher knew this to be the best location. If Savaiyon wants to see the Daughters, he’ll see the best performance. From their side of the street, they could barely see the commotion. Several rows of men and women stood in front of them watching the Daughters of Tahlia dance and thrust and gyrate on a stage the length of the square. Vasher filed in behind Savaiyon as the statuesque man pushed his way to the front of the crowd.
It’s always good to have a tall friend in situations like this
. It also helped that they bore the Descendants’ Mark, as Sundari tended to celebrate unconventional people and things more so than the rest of the world.

They stopped when nothing or no one else stood in front of them except the platforms where the dancers performed. Vasher felt a tinge of guilt since Savaiyon was well taller than anyone else in the crowd. He’d grown close to Savaiyon in his time at the House, yet had never seen this side of the man. Savaiyon always maintained an even keel and, while the man was not dry or drab, barely ever displayed any elevated emotions, except for when he had to put some of the novices in their places.

Vasher was unsure of whether his manifestation was the reason, but over the years he had formed a penchant for being able to read people and the emotions that hid behind the things they said and did.
Curiosity isn’t the only reason Savaiyon was here. There’s definitely something more
. But even aside from Savaiyon being a Maven of the House, Vasher held too much respect for the man to question Savaiyon’s motives. Not for something like this, anyway. If there was something that he wasn’t telling Vasher, then it was for good reason. “So you know the history, right?” He shouted over the hooting and hollering crowd.