His Ancient Heart (6 page)

Silas paused for only a moment, and then dropped the arm. "Amman?"
 

Fehri turned around, sucking in on the sacha and letting the smoke out through his nose. "He That Sits Above. It is His road that I walk, His voice that I bend to, foremost among all voices." He tugged at the corner of his black tunic. "This is a means to an end."

"What end?"

"Kindness. It is lost to this Empire, and I have made it my quest to return it. One beggar at a time, if need be. You've seen the way the soldiers lord over the commoners. You've seen how every word is cloaked in fear. The rebellion grows every day. It isn't only about the prisoners or the Cursed. It is about kindness, decency, justice. Amman teaches us these things, and yet we do not hear these teachings. We bow to Amman, at the same time we spit on his feet."

"So you are for the rebellion?"

"I am for kindness. There are many paths to achieving it, and I have tried to show it to my comrades, my brothers. I have tried to teach them a better way. Amman's way. I believed that was my command, my duty to Amman. It appears I misunderstood His Word."

"How so?"

Fehri smiled. "He has brought me to you. Or you to me. I didn't know I was assisting the Liar and his Wh... companion outside the apothecary. Amman did, and He set me to be there when you needed me. Now you are here, in this stable, and I am here in this stable. You didn't kill me when you could have. You didn't remain in hiding and wait for me to leave. Amman is telling us both that I am meant to help you again."

"It is a coincidence," Silas said. If Amman were real, He would never have let
him
do the things
he
had done.

"No, my Lord Morningstar. There are no coincidences. I have prayed to Amman for His guidance, and He has answered those prayers. It is as clear to me as a sunny day. You don't have to believe it. It is enough that I do."
 

Fehri took two steps back from Silas and drew his sword. In one smooth motion, he dropped to his knee and held it out to him.
 

"I offer you my sword, as Amman decrees. I am His man first, and yours second. I swear my fealty to you, Silas Morningstar."

Silas looked down on the man. He had guessed by the sacha that this soldier might not be as loyal as his position might have suggested. He had gambled that he could use him to get back out of the Heart. He hadn't expected this. Could he be trusted? He
had
saved Eryn from a beating at the hands of one of his men. He had shown her uncommon and unexpected kindness.

"No," Silas said.

Fehri lifted his head, his expression confused. "No?"

Silas brought his hand up to his head, running it along the rough cuts he had made. Silas Morningstar wasn't who he was. Silas Morningstar was a lie, a ruse that
he
had created to keep him alive but completely in the dark, ready to be sent back to Rossum and Genesia if the need ever arose.

Genesia was destroyed. Rossum was dead.
 

As of this moment, so is Silas Morningstar.

"If you wish to swear fealty, swear it to Talon Rast. General Talon Rast."

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Talon

"Silas, I - oh."
 

Urla made her way into the stable, holding a large parcel of cloth against her chest. She had turned the corner and seen the soldier first, standing with his back to her in front of Talon. She stopped in her tracks, her eyes growing wide, her face fearful.

"Urla," Talon said, stepping around the soldier. "Do not be alarmed. I have made a new acquaintance while you were gone."

Fehri turned around, and Urla relaxed. "Captain Fehri. I didn't know it was you. Smoking in my barn again?"

"My apologies."

"I knew you liked the sacha. I never took you for a sympathizer."

"I am not for or against the Empire, my Lady. I am merely a servant to our Lord Amman, and in His name to General Rast."

"Well, then like it or not Captain, you are against the Empire, and for the people." Urla's eyes flicked over to Talon. "General Rast?"

"It is time that I reclaim my legacy and atone for it."

She held the parcel out to him. "A cloak from Moser Allan. He's a smith over on Caston Street. They call him 'the bear' on account of his size."

"Did you tell him what it was for?"

"I told him to hand it over and mind his business. He knows better than to ask questions."

Talon took the package. "Thank you. I don't know how I will ever repay your generosity."

She leaned forward and up, kissing him on the cheek. "Yes, you do."

"Urla, please go," Talon said. "Take care of your daughter. If I can get Patmos back to you, I will."

Urla nodded. "I know you will. Be safe. And when you return to wherever you have hidden Eryn, tell her that me and Patina miss her sorely."

Talon couldn't help but think of Eryn, laying on the floor of the cave and suffering a fate worse than death. "I will," he said, trying to hold back his tears and anger.
 

Urla turned and headed out the door.

"We are clear on the plan?" Talon asked.

"Yes. So long as you don't get caught returning to Davin's estate, I can get you and your companion inside the palace. You'll have to put a lot of faith in me."

"I'll put as much in you as you have in Amman."

Fehri nodded. "Then there is no cause to worry."

"What about your men?"

"My men are loyal to
him
before me. It is a shame, but we can't count on them. I will take care of it."

"Thank you, Fehri. Good luck."

Fehri bowed to him, took a final puff of the sacha, stamped it out on a crossbeam, and then left the stable.
 

Talon headed for the exit behind him, his arms full with the cloak, the hat, and the shears while Fehri went the other direction, into the inn through a second door. When he reached the stable doors, he peeked out, checking for soldiers. There was one standing at attention near the mouth of the alley, and he watched while Fehri spoke to him, and then brought him away at a fast walk.

"Time to go," Talon whispered, slipping out of the door and breaking for the street at a run. Fehri was gathering his men inside the inn. The soldier would spend valuable minutes questioning Urla about his whereabouts, during which he would cross over to the next zone of patrols.
 

He was only three blocks from Davin's estate, only a block from the millinery, when he was finally spotted.
 

"Hold, sir," the soldier called out from behind him. Talon didn't turn at first, continuing to walk as though he wasn't being spoken to.

He heard the patter of the horse's hooves accelerate, and then the soldiers were right behind him.
 

"I said, hold." The voice was gruff and angry.
 

Talon stopped walking and faced them, keeping his eyes downcast. His uncommon blue would draw too much scrutiny. "My apologies, your Lordship. I didn't guess that you was talking to the likes of me."

"There's no one else out here," the soldier said. He was young, a little pudgy, wearing light chain armor and a dull iron helm over his blacks. He was flanked by two others, who were even younger than he was.
 

Little more than children.

Talon kept his eyes down. "My apologies, your Lordship. Please forgive my ignorance."

"What are you doing out here?"

Talon held out the cloth and hat. "I been called out to visit Lord Varquist, your Lordship. He wanted a hat."

"Lord Varquist? I've never heard of him."

"Aye. He lives over yonder, near that estate that done burned down some fortnight or so ago. 'Twas fortunate for him the fire didn't spread. Your Lordship."

The soldier whispered something to his companions. "An odd time of night to be out making hats."

"Aye. It is, your Lordship. Begging your pardon, but between you and me, Lord Varquist is quite an odd soul." He cackled at the comment, coughing in the middle of his laugh. "I'm not a wealthy man, your Lordship, and my poor birth prevented me from serving him as proudly as you do. As it is, there's just me, me wife and the hats. I can't afford to turn down work, even if it means heading out in the middling of the night, and running into you fine gentlemen."

The soldier was silent for a moment, and then dismounted his horse. He came in close to Talon. "Let me see your face."

"My apologies, your Lordship," Talon said, backing away. "I've got this sickness." He coughed again for effect. "I don't want to pass it to you."

The soldier reached out and grabbed him by the wrist, squeezing tight enough that it would have caused most men to cry out. Talon did his best imitation, coughing, whimpering and whining at the pain.

"Let me see your face," the man repeated.

Talon breathed in slowly, gathering his focus in case he needed to change his tactics. He looked up at the soldier, making a face that he hoped was pitiful.

The soldier stared at him. At his eyes first, and then at the stubble and dirt on his face, his black clothes, his soldier's boots.

"Where did you get army blacks?" the soldier asked, still scrutinizing him and growing more suspicious.
 

"My son, your Lordship. He's a soldier. We're the same size. He passed them down to me." He tried to sound frightened. He wasn't sure how convincing it was, and he was losing confidence in his trickery. He had hoped to avoid being seen at all, and if that couldn't be avoided to bypass the kind of notice that would identify his dress, even if he had removed his markings from it. He had failed on both counts.

"Didn't you just say it was only your wife and your cat - what the Heden?"

The soldier's eyes flew up and over Talon, fear taking control of his face. Talon looked back, finding Oz racing towards them, the juggernaut carrying his massive sword in hand and bearing down on the soldiers.
 

"My apologies, your Lordship," Talon said, dropping the clothes from his arms and striking the soldier in the face with enough force to break his nose. He grabbed the hilt of the man's sword even as he fell to the ground.

He heard the thwip of bowstrings, and the ping of the arrowheads smacking against Oz, his heavy shell deflecting them without concern.
 

"Oz," Talon shouted.

The juggernaut didn't pause. It steamed past him, swinging its huge blade and cutting the soldiers down from their mounts.

"Oz," he repeated.

Oz turned, its red eyes blazing. "It is pleased to see First of Nine."

"What did you do?" The first soldier was still alive, on his hands and knees. Talon put the sword to his throat. "Be still."

The soldier didn't move.

"It is worried. It is coming."

"Worried?"

"It is not right back."

Talon looked at the corpses of the other soldiers. Oz had almost cut them in half.

"I was coming back," he said. "I was dealing with them."

"It is worried."

It said it as though that was all the reason it needed.

"I gave you an order," Talon said.

Oz was silent.

"Oz. You disobeyed me."

The juggernaut was still. "It is sorry."

Talon stared back at the creature. There was much more to it than he understood, but there was one thing he was sure of: Oz was not like any of the other juggernauts. The question was, why?

"Here," Talon said, picking up the cloak and holding it out to it. "Put this on, quickly. You should have left your sword with mine. Now we have to find somewhere to hide it."

"It is sorry," Oz repeated. It put the sword on the ground and took the offered cloak and deftly slipped it over its shoulders with one arm. Then it took the hat and placed it over its head.

"It is wearing clothes," Oz said.

"Yes. Keep the cloak closed." Even though Urla had gotten it from a man called 'the bear' it was still pulling at the juggernaut's shoulders, and it barely dropped to the top of its ankles. The hat was also pulled on tight, the shadow of the wide brim just barely enough to keep its face in darkness, the glow if its eyes hidden.
 

Talon looked down at the soldier, who stayed motionless beneath the sword. He shifted his hand forward and drew a neat line into his bare neck, cutting deep. The soldier gurgled in pain and fell.
 

Murderer.

Talon closed his eyes.
 

Yes. He saw too much. A risk we couldn't take.

"Let's go," he said, dropping the sword to the dirt next to the body.
 

Before they could, a rush of footsteps echoed around them. The soldiers ran in from the alleys and cross-streets, a hundred strong or more. Dozens of arrows trained on them, tense bowmen keeping their strings taught and ready to loose.
 

Oz started reaching for its sword.

"Don't," Talon said. "That is an order, and you had better follow it."

Oz stopped moving.

Three men on horseback parted the masses, riding ahead to where they stood. One took the reins of the dead soldier's horses. The other two came close.

"Silas Morningstar," Fehri said, his eyes filled with disgust at the carnage. "You are under arrest."

CHAPTER TWELVE

Spyne

General Spyne made the last few steps up to the top of the ridge. He was sweaty from the climb, breathing hard, the anger pulsing beneath the surface of an icy stare. The rest of the Historians filed in behind him, wheezing and gasping, complaining at the soreness of their muscles, and wishing they had been able to bring the horses up the steep terrain.
 

All except Worm. He didn't so much climb the mountain as flow up it, soundlessly making the ascent without breaking a sweat, without breathing any harder, and of course without a word. He was the one who paused next to Spyne, looking down the slope on the other side towards the distant ruin that was Genesia.

"Home," Spyne said.
 

The small emotion that had sat in his gut for the last two days had grown to a strange yearning, an overwhelming desire to see the place again. Now he gazed down onto the crater. It had lost its obscuring mist, down to the patches of bones and the trees beyond, down to the mountain of stone and slagged ircidium that rested in the center. A true tomb within a tomb.