Child of the Sword, Book 1 of The Gods Within (12 page)

Morgin was stunned by how quickly he’d been
obeyed, without argument, and how, at the sound of a clansman
speaking in anger, all nearby activity had ceased. He and Mathal
were at the center of a sphere of silence and fear, with everyone
waiting for him to make the next move. Mathal stood like a statue,
half way through the motion of picking up a piece of fruit.

With an effort he suppressed his magic,
crouched down beside her to help her. “Forgive me for knocking you
down, Mathal. Is any of the fruit damaged?”

The incident was over. The crowd returned to
its business and Mathal returned to picking up fruit. “No, your
worship. It’s just fine, sir. It wasn’t that good to begin
with.”

And it wasn’t. What Mathal had been hawking
was, at best, the day-old stuff from another vendor. Clearly, her
fortunes had declined. Not knowing what else to do, Morgin bought
all her fruit. She seemed thankful for the few pennies he had. To
her it was probably a small fortune.

On their way back to the Elhiyne compound he
gave the fruit away to some beggars they passed. JohnEngine teased
him unmercifully for wasting his money on groceries, and rather
poor quality groceries at that. MichaelOff said nothing. He just
looked at Morgin queerly, as if he understood there was something
more to Morgin’s actions than he and JohnEngine knew.

~~~

“She was kind to you, was she?” AnnaRail
asked.

“Oh yes,” Morgin said. “She always let me
steal fruit. She pretended not to see but I know she did.”

“And now you say she has fallen on hard
times?”

“It must be that,” Morgin said. “She’s a
walking vendor with no stall, selling in the center of the square.
That’s the worst that can happen to a vendor. The others look down
on the walkers and treat them badly. Can’t we do something for
her?”

AnnaRail, busy with some preparation for
Annaline’s wedding, looked up from her work thoughtfully. “She was
kind to one of my sons when he was in need. Therefore, I must be
the same with her. Let this be a lesson to you. The obligations of
a single clansman are the obligations of the entire clan. If she is
willing to enter into our service, I’m sure we can find something
for her to do. And if she works hard, and proves herself
trustworthy, she will prosper.”

“Oh thank you, mother,” Morgin said. “But
she must never know that I was once Rat. Never.”

“Very well, son. Now run along. I have work
to do.”

The next morning Morgin found a pouch
containing a considerable sum of money attached to one of the posts
of his bed. There was also a note that read:

Son:

Your mother says you gave your money in a
kindness. Here is some to replace it. It may seem a great deal, but
it must last you while we are in Anistigh. I’m proud of you. But
remember, there is such a thing as too much kindness.

Roland.

Morgin found far more money in the pouch
than he’d spent on Mathal’s fruit. He tucked it away and felt
proud, but he quickly learned he wouldn’t have an opportunity to
spend any of it. Avis appeared with a message from Olivia. He was
to dress in his best and attend her immediately.

It was a group interview with Brandon,
DaNoel, JohnEngine, NickoLot, and himself. MichaelOff was too old
for such, and Annaline was too busy preparing for her wedding, but
the rest had to endure a morning-long quizzing in the details of
inter-clan relationships.

Olivia’s interest centered primarily on the
four tribes of the Lesser Council: the first, fourth, eighth, and
ninth tribes of the Shahot, ruled respectively by the Houses Tosk,
Penda, Elhiyne, and Inetka. Each tribe was autonomous in internal
matters, but turned to the council to arbitrate intertribal
disputes. Historically, House Elhiyne had led the Lesser Council
and continued to do so by consent of the Lesser Clans, as well as
by virtue of Olivia’s power.

Annaline’s future husband, SandoFall, was an
Inetka, as had been Marjinell. There were strong bonds between
Elhiyne and Inetka, and both tribes would use the wedding as an
opportunity for celebration, so attendance would be heavy. But
since it was not a wedding of great importance, Houses Tosk and
Penda would only be lightly represented.

Of the Greater Council only a single
representative would be present: Valso, a prince of House Decouix,
heir to the throne of King Illalla of the third tribe. Valso, of
course, traveled with a retinue of twelve twelves, and for
protection had brought along as many Kullish armsmen. The Kulls
were known for their loyalty to House Decouix, their fighting
ability, and their cruelty.

The Greater Council was composed of three
tribes: the third, eleventh, and twelfth tribes of the Shahot,
ruled by Houses Decouix, Rastanna, and Vodah. Unlike the autonomous
tribes of the Lesser Council, those of the Greater were under the
singular rule of House Decouix, which was, in turn, ruled by
Illalla. Some said it was this unity that had made theirs the
Greater Council.

It was well known that the Greater Council
would like nothing more than to see the Lesser abolished. But by
virtue of the distances involved the Lesser was able to maintain a
partial independence in its rule. However, tithe was paid yearly to
the Greater Council, a tithe of gold in lieu of blood.

The capital city of the Greater Council was
Durin. Unlike Anistigh, Durin was a walled city, with castle
Decouix at its heart, and capable of withstanding a long siege. The
Greater Council liked to believe that Durin had not the slums nor
poor of Anistigh, but those who had seen both said they were quite
similar. Unlike the Lesser Council, the Greater had been known to
rule its territories with a mailed fist, crushing any opposition
that might arise. And it was often a Lesser Clan, bold enough to
stand forward openly, upon whom the mailed fist fell.

All of this Morgin had learned long ago,
then forgotten as quickly as possible. Olivia’s morning-long
grilling had served its purpose, reminding the children of the
facts of inter-clan relationships, and emphasizing that now they
would need to put that knowledge to use.

At the end of the interview Olivia dismissed
everyone but Morgin. She demanded he attend her at luncheon, where
he met several guests from Clan Inetka, among them SandoFall and
the clan’s leader Wylow, a large, boisterous, bearded man whom
Morgin rather liked. Olivia chose to call Morgin by his family
name, AethonLaw, and used every opportunity to brag of its possible
import. The whole affair bored Morgin terribly, and he had trouble
staying awake.

When it was over he learned he was not yet
free to enjoy the sights of the city. There was a banquet that
evening at the Inetka compound, and all family members were
required to attend. And after he met the Pendas and Tosks he had to
be content with JohnEngine’s account of his afternoon
adventures.

The next morning he awoke early, hoping to
be gone before Olivia found something to detain him. But alas, Avis
met him with a message to attend Malka, and once the message had
been delivered he could not deny receiving it. They spent the
morning with BlakeDown, High Lord of Clan Penda, and between
BlakeDown and Olivia, Morgin sensed a subtle but constant sparring,
as if they were ever at odds in some way. Morgin was dismissed from
their conference quickly though, and had to spend the morning
entertaining BlakeDown’s youngest daughter, a girl about his own
age who was quite pretty, but had a tendency to giggle and twitter.
And then one of Olivia’s interviews filled the rest of the
afternoon, and another banquet filled the evening. Again Morgin had
to be content with JohnEngine’s stories.

The third day saw another morning-long
quizzing by Olivia, and the afternoon filled by a meeting with
Valso et Decouix. The Decouix prince was a young man, only a few
years older than MichaelOff. He was handsome, with dark, almost
delicate features, though Morgin noted that his tunic did not lack
muscle to fill it, and his eyes were as hard as the edge of a
sword. But oddly, for the first time, Olivia chose to call Morgin
“Morgin,” with no mention or bragging of the name AethonLaw. And
once introduced, he was almost wholly ignored.

He returned to the family compound that
evening and learned there was another banquet scheduled. After
further inquiry he found it would be attended exclusively by the
elders and him, with none of his brothers or cousins present. He
spoke with Avis and learned that his time for the next two days was
fully occupied, with all arrangements made by Olivia, and he began
to suspect a conspiracy.

He sought out Olivia. He was feeling the
first touches of anger, though he was determined that it would not
show. Expecting to gain nothing, but curious to hear her response,
he asked if he might be excused from the banquet that evening.

“I’m sorry, child,” she said. “But that’s
impossible. PaulStaff, leader of the Tosks, wishes to meet
you.”

“PaulStaff met me two days ago,” Morgin said
flatly.

She wasn’t ready for that. “So he did. So he
did. But I wish you to be there. The younger generation of House
Elhiyne must be properly represented.”

It sounded hollow and Morgin recognized it
for the lie it was. “But it’s someone else’s turn tonight.”

She put on a show of tolerant displeasure.
“But I require you, and not someone else.”

“But you’ve required me day and night for
three days now. It’s not fair.”

“Of course it’s not fair. What does fairness
have to do with this? I require your presence. You will be
there.”

“But I want some time of my own. I want to
see the city.”

She leaned forward menacingly, staring at
him without blinking. “And why would you wish to see the city? It
is a city, nothing more.”

“But you’re wrong,” he pleaded. “There are a
hundred things to see and do, a thousand. Everyone else gets to.
And you’re not being honest with me.”

She rose angrily from her seat, and he
realized then that he’d gone too far. “How dare you?” she cried.
“You accuse me of lying when you no doubt have nothing on your mind
but
gesh
.”

Morgin started. “
Gesh
?” he asked,
trying to understand what that had to do with their argument.
“
Gesh
?” he asked again, and then comprehension struck him
like a fist. He wanted no
gesh
. He needed no
gesh
. He
screamed the word at her. “
Gesh
!”

Suddenly he understood it all. Suddenly he
realized that there could never be any trust for
Rat the bastard
whoreson
, and with that realization came a flood of hot anger.
“You think I want
gesh
? You think I’ll head straight for the
gesh
? You have so little faith in me?
Why . . . I haven’t thought about
gesh
in . . . in I don’t know how many years. And you
think I’ll lie and deceive to get it now?”

For the first time in his memory her face
showed indecision, and in the instant of silence that followed his
words he turned his back on her, turned without another word and
stormed out of the room.

“Come back here,” she shouted after him.
“You haven’t been dismissed.”

He continued walking, refusing to be
cowered, though he could hear her calling after him, “Come back
here. I command it.” But the twists and turns of the hallways in
the Elhiyne compound quickly muffled her anger.

Morgin marched straight for the room he
shared with JohnEngine, grabbed his pouch of money and turned to
leave. But as he did so he caught sight of himself in a mirror,
dressed in the finery of a highborn clansman. Quickly he changed
into something more suitable for the streets: loose fitting
breeches tucked into knee-high boots, a course, gray, linen shirt
beneath a sleeveless leather jerkin. He tied the pouch to his belt,
then headed for the street, allowing his anger to guide him, and
caring nothing for the direction it chose.

It was early evening when he left the
compound, but by the time he stopped to think what he was doing it
was well after dark. He’d spent the time storming through the
streets surrounding the market square, seeing nothing because of
his blind rage, and remembering anew those memories long
forgotten.

There was no desire for
gesh
, just
anger at the damn witches. His rage was gone, burned off by hours
of walking, but the anger was still there, and would remain for a
long time to come, fueled by the realization that he would always
be
Rat the whoreson
, one not to be trusted.

As the rage dissipated he took stock of his
situation. He was on an unpaved street, with a continuous line of
low stone buildings on either side. The only illumination was a
quarter moon and an occasional crack of light from beneath a closed
door, but that was sufficient to see small objects in the street,
and to make visible each alley as a dark, dim entrance to
nothingness.

From a past life he could vaguely remember
this street, or at least he remembered the direction to the market
square, and it was not the one he was now walking. He stopped in
the middle of the street, turned about to return to the compound.
But his eye caught a shadow disappearing into the darkened recess
of a closed doorway. He looked carefully, and in the moonlight he
saw several dark shapes freeze into stillness. One of them was no
more than a few paces from him.

He began backing slowly up the street,
watching the shadows to see which were more than just shadows. His
heart pounded in his throat, and in the space of ten heart beats
ten shadows stepped purposefully into the street. They were all
about him.

There was a noise, the sound of steel
sliding clear of a sheath, and for the first time he realized he
was unarmed. He hadn’t thought to take a sword when he’d left the
compound in the light of day, and now, because of his
thoughtlessness, he would be found tomorrow laying in some alley
with his throat cut.