No one.
Then why do the Chosen suspect us?
They suspect everyone.
You told them about us.
Never. I didnt betray Jezro.
Warkannan made a cut on his cheek, just under his eye. Im going to keep doing this till you tell me. If your face isnt sensitive enough, Ill work on your balls.
Sweat glazed Hazros forehead. I didnt tell anyone anything.
Warkannan made another nick, then another till Hazros face was sheeting blood. When Warkannan took the lid off the bucket of glowing charcoal, Hazro fainted. Warkannan slapped and shook him to bring him round while he fought his own honest revulsion. He hated extracting information this way, but if he didnt, what then? The Chosen might well gather them all in, and worse things would happen to his friends, his mistress, his allies, his nephew, down in some hidden room under the Great Khans palace. Indan pulled over a wooden storage box and sat down, his eyes weary.
Now, Warkannan said to Hazro. Who did you tell?
Hazro shut his bloody lips tight. Warkannan pulled up Hazros tunic and made a nick on his scrotum. Hazro screamed.
Ill put a bit of charcoal on that cut next, Warkannan said. Thats the procedure a nick, then a bit of fire, all the way up your cock.
When Hazro hesitated, Warkannan took the small tongs and fished a glowing coal out of the bucket.
It was Lev Rashad. Rashad of the Wazrekej Fifth Mounted. I didnt realize at first he was one of the Chosen.
Warkannan felt as if hed been kicked in the stomach. He knew Rashad, just distantly, but he knew him. You never think its going to be someone you know, he told himself.
What do you think he was going to do? Warkannan said. Announce it in the regimental mess?
I I
Wait! Indan looked up. You said you didnt know he was one of them at first. This must mean you realized it later. How?
He must have been the one. Hazro started gasping for breath. It couldnt have been anyone else.
Oh? Indan said. He must have dropped some hint. Why didnt you come straight to us then? You were dangling us like bait in front of him, werent you? You were using us to try to buy your way into the Chosen.
Hazro made a small choking sound deep in his throat.
How much did you tell him? Warkannan said. Did you mention Jezro?
No, never, I swear it! All I said was that I was on to a good thing with this investment group. I thought hed join us. Wed been drinking, and I
You stupid little bastard! Warkannan raised the knife. What did you tell him about Jezro?
Nothing!
Why did you want to join the Chosen?
I didnt. I didnt.
Warkannan kept working on him until the smell of charred flesh hung in the room and Hazro was gibbering, not speaking. A bit at a time, Warkannan extracted the information that Hazro had mentioned Soutan, come from the east with ancient maps that might show deposits of blackstone. He admitted bragging, hinting that perhaps he was a man who knew important things.
But not Jezro, never Jezro. He was sobbing, twitching when his tears touched the open cuts on his face.
Indeed? Are you sure of that?
Over and over he denied having mentioned the name, even when he was at the point of shrieking and writhing at the very sight of a piece of charcoal. Warkannan finally laid down the tongs and sat back on his heels.
I believe him. A man in this state tells the truth.
So do I, Indan said. As for this business about his wanting to join the Chosen
I didnt! Hazro tried to shout, but he was gagging on his own blood. I just thought
What? Indan said. What were you thinking?
Insurance. Hazro started to cough, then gagged again and spat up bloody rheum. If
If they were on to us, you were going to turn informer. Warkannan finished the thought for him. Thats why you wouldnt tell us.
Hazro slumped back against the wall, his bloody lips working.
Yes, Indan said. I think we finally understand.
Soutan stepped closer to stare at Hazros mutilated manhood, what was left of it. What are you going to do with him now?
Put him out of his misery.
Hazro screamed, choked again, and tried to speak, but Warkannan grabbed his hair, forced his head back, and slit his throat in one quick stroke. When he looked up, he saw Soutan smiling, his eyes bright, as if from a fever. Soutan nudged the dead body with the toe of his sandal.
Do we throw him in the ocean?
No. The Chosen have recognizable ways of torturing a man, and this was one of them. The councillor is going to find something big enough to hide the body. Well take it back to Haz Kazrak, and Ill dump the corpse over the wall of Hazros fathers garden at night for the slaves to find. His father wont suspect us. Hell think that the Chosen have killed his son, and then hell be more loyal to Jezro than ever.
They left the body in the attic. Warkannan stayed out of sight while Indan ordered the servants to bring up a tub of hot water for his guest room. Once the tub was ready and they were gone, Warkannan could at last bathe away the stench and the gore. He only wished he could wash away his revulsion as easily.
Hazro had been a stupid young fool, a snob and apparently a coward as well. But to think that Lev Rashad Warkannan shook his head. The very curse of the Chosen was simply that they were secret and very good at staying that way. An army within an army, they existed to spy on their fellow soldiers as well as do the Great Khans dirty work among civilians. They lived in the same barracks, ate at the same mess, carried the same insignia as the other members of their regiments, but somewhere in their career, theyd been taken aside and initiated into a brotherhood with rules of its own.
And they force the rest of us to sink to their level, Warkannan told himself. Maybe thats the worst evil of all.
In the morning, when they set off for Haz Kazrak, one of Indans servants followed them in the cart which was laden with an enormous woven basket filled with dried fruit and other delicacies, or so the servant thought. Certainly it smelled of rich spices and rose petals. Once they reached the city, the servant and the cart both headed for Indans townhouse, while Warkannan and Arkazo went openly to Warkannans cottage, which he kept as a relief from officers quarters when off-duty.
Down on one of the lower hills in town lay a district full of these places, decent accommodations, complete with stables, for aristocratic officers like Warkannan, who had income from property but who werent wealthy enough to keep townhouses with a full staff. Warkannans little bungalow sat at the back of the communal garden, six irregular rooms bound together by vines and furnished with shabby wicker chairs and old rugs. When he and Arkazo walked in, his only servant, Lazzo, met him with a letter.
Its from headquarters, sir.
Ah. I wonder if theyre taking my resignation?
Warkannan took the sheet of pale pink rushi over to the window. The letter read exactly as hed hoped, a bland official statement of regret at losing such a good officer. He was to report one last time to determine his pension settlement.
So thats that, Warkannan said. If theyre so sorry to lose me they might have promoted me.
Im glad now I never enlisted. Arkazo flopped onto a wicker sofa.
Oh, I dont know. The disciplines good for a man. I dont regret
One sharp jolt like the slap of a giant hand made the room sway. The flexible walls creaked and chafed against their binding vines as they rippled in the shock. Warkannan braced himself and glanced at the wall. A long strand of blue beads hung on a leather thong attached to a plaque of true-wood, marked out in numbered, concentric circles. The beads swung back and forth against the gauge. As he watched, the quake died out in a long shiver. The beads quieted and hung steady.
Just about a five, Warkannan said.
It didnt feel like much, no, Arkazo said. Anyway, youve always talked about the discipline. Thats one reason I dont want to join up.
Huh! Well, youre going to learn about discipline now. You follow my orders, or you stay at home.
Lounging on overstuffed cushions Arkazo raised one hand in salute. Yes sir! he said and grinned. At your service!
All right. For starters, you can pack my clothes as well as yours.
They went into Warkannans bedroom, where, in a chest woven of pale orange reeds, Warkannan kept what few civilian clothes he owned khaki trousers, shirts to match, a broad-brimmed riding hat, worn brown boots. He dumped the lot on the bed, then looked away, startled at a feeling much like grief. Civilian clothes. Tonight he would be taking off the Great Khans uniform for the last time. As an honourable retiree he would be allowed to keep his sabre - but Im a traitor, he thought. I have no honour. They just dont know it yet.
Uncle? Arkazo laid a hand on his shoulder. Is something wrong?
No, no, nothing. Ill just go report in to settle my pension. I want our gear properly packed when I get back. Make sure you have a hat with you. The suns fierce out on the plains.
Just after sunset, Warkannan and Arkazo were sharing some smuggled wine in the study when Lubahva arrived from the palace. Normally she wore modest dresses and a headscarf when she left the palace grounds, but that evening shed draped herself with the grey veils of the ultra-orthodox, which turned her into a pious bundle indistinguishable from a thousand other women. Her behaviour, however, was far from restrained. She giggled while she tipped the old servant and made a show of lifting her veil to give Warkannan a kiss. Once the servant was gone, Lubahva sat down on a divan and pulled the veil off to reveal her black hair, done up in rows of beaded braids.
Are you sure this is safe? Warkannan said.
Why not? She smiled briefly. I told them I was on my way to a womens prayer service, and I am. Ive just stopped by for a minute with news. A Kazrak rode out from one of the northern border forts, a merchant saying he was going to take his goods out to the Tribes.
Oh really? With the chance of running into prowling ChaMeech? That I dont believe. Well leave from the north and try to catch up with him.
Youre really going to go through with this?
I dont have any choice. Arkazo and I are leaving tomorrow. The sorcerers joining us on the road.
Ah, Soutan! Lubahva said with a sigh. Well, even fake magicians can carry letters. All right. Ill keep in touch with Indan while youre gone.
As they walked to the door, she veiled herself, but she left the panel over her face down for one last kiss.
Idres? she said. Will I ever see you again?
Thats up to God, isnt it? I hope so.
I suppose it is, yes. Ill miss you.
Ill miss you, too. Remember me in your prayers.
Every day. I promise.
Lubahva pulled up the veil, turned fast and started off down the path to the street. Watching her shoulders tremble, Warkannan realized that she was weeping. He was honestly surprised.
Deep in the night, after Arkazo had gone to bed, Warkannan put on his civilian khakis, hid a dagger in his shirt and took a stout walking stick as well, then hurried through the dark streets to Indans townhouse, some five blocks uphill from the compound owned by Hazros family, the Mustava clan. At the back gate Indans mayordomo, a man with years of loyalty behind him, met him in the darkness. Together they rolled the wicker basket down the silent mews to the Mustava garden. The white wall stood too high for the pair of them to lift or throw the grisly contents over. A porters little hut at the back gate, however, stood empty. Warkannan rolled the basket inside, tipped the mayordomo, then hurried away, trotting through back alleys, keeping out of the occasional pool of lantern light. He met no one and returned to his bungalow without waking Arkazo.
Warkannan lingered in the city the next morning to hear the news about Hazros corpse. It reached him early in the person of a light-skinned eunuch, Aiwaz, the supervisor of the court musicians, who knew both the Mustavas and the Warkannans. Swathed in white gauze robes he waddled into Warkannans living room and stood shaking his head, his face deathly pale, while he repeatedly wiped his mouth with a yellow handkerchief.
It was horrible, Aiwaz said. Hazros father found the body. He went down to unlock the back gates, and there it was.
What? Warkannan did his best to look shocked. Just thrown onto the street?
No. Heres the fiendish part. There was a basket there, smelling of spice, just as if someone had left some sort of gift. Inside was the body. Aiwaz paused, swallowing heavily. Mutilated. Cut and burned in the cuts. The poor old man fainted. Just let out one sob and fainted.
Warkannan looked away fast. His memory of that night in Indans attic rose up and sickened him. He had never thought that Hazros father would find the thing himself.
Yes, the poor old man. Warkannan could hear his voice choking on the words. Im so sorry.
So are we all. Aiwaz dabbed his mouth again. Of course, none of the Mustavas could possibly know who did this. He raised a plucked eyebrow significantly. But the boys uncle swears hell have his revenge. He seems to know whom hed choose for a suspect.
Ah, yes, I see what you mean.
They shared a grim smile. Warkannan turned away to find Arkazo, wearing only a pair of white trousers, standing in the hall that led back to the bedrooms. From a window sunlight fell across his pale brown chest in a stripe and left his face in shadow. The boy stood with his back against the door jamb as if he thought someone might attack him from behind.
Its a horrible thing, Aiwaz repeated. Id best be on my way. A couple of other families need to hear the news.
Warkannan showed him out, then turned back to his nephew. Arkazo took a couple of uncertain steps into the room, staring at Warkannan as if at a stranger.
Youre wondering how I could do such a thing, Warkannan said.
Arkazo nodded.
Because all our lives depended on it. Because our khans life depends on it.
Arkazo looked away, his shoulders high as if he feared a blow. Warkannan could hear Lazzo clattering dishes in the kitchen. The sound seemed to ring as loud as gongs.
Do you still want to go along on this ride? Warkannan said at last.