The Sin War Box Set: Birthright, Scales of the Serpent, and The Veiled Prophet (77 page)

The ethereal warrior formed in the light. Somehow the blazing energy that radiated where his eyes were supposed to be seemed to hint at pity for Achilios.
YOU MISUNDERSTAND. SHE LIVES, BUT IT WAS NOT HE WHO SAVED THE FEMALE. THAT WAS YOU, ARCHER, JUST AS BEFORE.

He could not have given the blond hunter a better answer. Achilios grinned wide—an image that would have frightened any mortal seeing him—then gestured defiantly at the winged figure. “I did it? I beat you then! Kill them…kill them both…you commanded…but I didn’t.”

He said this expecting—nay,
hoping
—that the angel would grow so incensed that he would destroy Achilios on the spot. Then there would be no possibility of the archer being forced to try over.

But no celestial fire burned him to cinder. Instead, the heavenly light around the winged being dulled. The towering figure cocked his head.

NO. YOU DID NOT,…AND THAT MAY CHANGE EVERYTHING.

The palace consisted of four rounded buildings surrounding a fifth one several times their size. Small, decorative points topped each. The main entrance was a wide, columned affair that could only be reached by a lengthy series of wide stone steps.

Six columns flanked each side of the brass doorway. Every column had been carved to resemble some animal respected by the ancient Kehjani builders, including the great cats of the jungle and the massive, prehensile-snouted creatures the lowlanders used for heavy burdens.

He was ushered inside by the prince, who seemed far less in awe of himself than his followers were. Uldyssian marveled at such a lack of ego from one who clearly had the hearts of many in the capital.

Perhaps he was not the first to show some indication of this, for as they walked down a corridor filled with brilliantly painted images of human and jungle life, Ehmad cheerfully informed his guest, “I have no true standing in Kehjan, you know. The mage clans and guilds such as the merchants rule outright here. If they wished, one of them could just come in here and have my head!”

Uldyssian doubted that it would be as simple as that. Ehmad’s rivals would then probably have an insurrection on their hands that even the mage clans could not suppress. If Master Fahin was an example, there were even those among the guilds and clans themselves who willingly supported the young noble.

A black-haired girl in a low-cut blouse and billowing, gauzy leg coverings raced barefoot to greet Prince Ehmad. In her delicate hands, she held a small, decorated tray with a silver goblet atop it.

Ehmad gave her a smile that made her giggle. However, instead of drinking from the goblet, he proffered it to Uldyssian. “You look like you could use this better, my friend!”

Unable to argue, Uldyssian gratefully accepted the drink, which proved to be one of the sweet wines that he had heard were favored in the capital. Parched, he swallowed it in only three gulps.

Retrieving the goblet from Uldyssian, the prince gave it to his servant. “Kaylei, bring us tea and some fruit at the Balcony of the Chadaka King.”

“Yes, my prince.” Kaylei bent low, then retreated from their sight.

There were few guards around and none near Ehmad himself. The prince walked with Uldyssian as if they were old friends, not two strangers who had met but a short time ago. The son of Diomedes finally decided that the young noble was either very reckless or very daring…or both.

And then Ehmad surprised him further by casually commenting, “You are not at all what I expected, Uldyssian ul-Diomed.”

Suddenly, all the courtesy and friendliness struck Uldyssian as nothing more than false front. He leapt back from the prince. The few sentries reacted immediately, charging toward the duo with spears ready.

“No!” shouted Ehmad at the men. “To your places.”

It said something for his command of them that the guards obeyed without hesitation. Ehmad’s dark eyes studied Uldyssian.

“I will have my little jests, won’t I? They will get me killed, my mother used to say. Judging by your expression and the fact that your hands now glow the color of molten iron, I suspect that I came closer than I first imagined.”

Uldyssian looked down at his hands and saw that the prince had not exaggerated. His hands were now a burning orange and radiating a similar heat.

“I’m sorry,” he told Ehmad, mentally willing the hands to return to normal.

But they did not.

Unaware of the truth, Prince Ehmad took Uldyssian’s continued display as distrust. “I knew who you were the moment I saw you. Master Fahin saw to that.”

“Master Fahin?” As he listened, Uldyssian concentrated harder. The glow emanating from his hands cooled, then finally disappeared. The heat dwindled away a breath or two after.

“You did not know? Master Fahin, he sent a pair of messenger birds on the night he agreed to bring you to the city. He wished me to know in advance of your coming.” The handsome youth looked sad. “He was a strong supporter and a stronger friend….”

Uldyssian looked down at himself. “You knew who I was even though I resembled a beggar?”

“I had but to look into your eyes. Master Fahin was right about them.” What that meant, Ehmad did not say. Instead, he gestured to a corridor on the right. “Come, let us go to the Balcony of the Chadaka King.”

Their destination was indeed a huge balcony overlooking a good portion of the northern part of the city. It also had, as Uldyssian had expected, images of chadaka, the large tailed primates he knew lived in the nearby jungle. Although they were not the only primates worshipped in Kehjan, the chadaka were considered the cleverest, and in the lowlands, he had come across many myths of their king, whose antics taught valuable lessons about pride and rule.

The floor itself, a mosaic masterpiece using hexagonal pieces, had an array of chadaka kings scampering about. The rails were also carved to resemble chadaka kings trying, sometimes unsucessfully, to sit in contemplative repose. There were chairs—brass ones with padded seats—near the edge, for which Uldyssian was grateful. He had managed a second wind once discovering that he had found Prince Ehmad, but that wind was failing him now. He all but fell into the nearest chair.

“Forgive me,” declared the prince. “I should have given you a place to sleep.”

“I don’t dare right now.”

“Ah, but all men must sleep. Even you, I imagine.”

“Not now…” Still, the chair felt more and more comfortable.

With a shrug, Ehmad sat not in the other chair but rather on the stone rail. His expression grew more serious. “What happened to Master Fahin?”

That question stirred Uldyssian back to waking. Summoning his wits, he told Prince Ehmad everything he could recall. The prince’s eyes widened as he heard about the magical attack, then narrowed at the death of the well-liked merchant.

“I have…sources…who say that you are responsible, my Ascenian friend. Sources who heard this among the mages.”

“I would’ve never killed Fahin or any of the rest. That work was done by one of their own, Zorun Tzin.”

The name did not appear to surprise Prince Ehmad. “Zorun Tzin is known well to me. He is a jackal among men. For too long, the bickering mage clans used him for that which they dared not soil their own hands with.” The Kehjani studied Uldyssian closer. “He is very formidable.”

But speaking of the spellcaster reminded the son of Diomedes of something—or, rather,
someone
—more sinister. “There’re things more formidable than Zorun Tzin.”

“Yes, you, for instance, as you escaped his sanctum so readily.” At that moment, the serving girl returned with the tea and fruit her master had requested. She set both trays on a tiny marble and iron table next to Uldyssian’s chair. “Please. Eat and drink at your convenience.”

Uldyssian did not argue, digging into the fruit and even risking some of the tea. Despite the heat of the region, he expected the tea to be hot. However, Uldyssian found it not only cool but sweet with the scent of some nectar.

“Taiyan tea,” his host explained. “It will help rejuvenate you.”

As he poured a second cup, Uldyssian said, “What of Zorun Tzin?”

“From all you describe, it sounds as if the mage clans will have to deal with the beast that they themselves loosed upon you. Master Fahin had friends and alliances with many of them. Zorun Tzin will be outcast even from his own blood. You need not concern yourself with him.”

But Uldyssian still recalled the fleeting glimpse. Tzin had followed him through the streets, and the look Uldyssian had read in the mage’s eyes had indicated a hatred for the son of Diomedes that was nearly as deep as that of—

He jerked straight. The cup of tea slipped from his grip. The delicate container shattered on the floor, spilling tea.

“No…”

Prince Ehmad leaned close in concern. “You are ill?”

Uldyssian rose. “Prince, I must speak with the mage clans immediately!”

“And I have begun to send out entreaties to them and the top guilds, my friend. I did so the moment after I’d read Fahin’s messages. It will take a little time—”

But the prince’s guest was only half listening. How could he have not seen it before? Uldyssian berated himself for a fool despite the fact that his powers were only now enabling him to recover from the horrors of the mage’s sanctum. Yes, he had seen the figure of Zorun Tzin in the streets….

But the eyes had been those of Malic.

“You don’t understand, prince!” Uldyssian growled. “There’s a new concern for the mages that they need to know about before he’s got a chance to take over one of them!”

“I must admit, I am at a loss. I have no idea what you are talking about—”

“Neither do we,” came a cultured female voice, “but we are certainly willing to listen…for the moment.”

Both men turned to see a trio of figures who could not have simply walked onto the balcony behind them. Uldyssian took up a defensive stance. He knew what these had to be.

However, Prince Ehmad boldly—or possibly fool-hardily—stepped between his guest and the mages. “Nurzani,” he said to a spindly figure that looked like something Mendeln might have summoned from the ground. “My greetings, Kethuus,” the noble then declared to one who seemed more shadow than man. At last, to the woman who had first spoken, Ehmad finished, “And ever, ever a pleasure, my beautiful Amolia…”

Unlike most females Uldyssian had thus far seen, Amolia did not react to Ehmad other than to nod slightly. However, as she pulled back the odd, high-peaked hood, Uldyssian nearly let out a gasp, for Amolia was close enough in appearance to Lilith’s guise of Lylia as to be her sister. Clearly, she came from the stock that the demoness had used for her disguise.

She noted his staring, and the flaring of her eyes warned him against any impudent action.

“You are Uldyssian ul-Diomed.”

“I am,” he replied, not relaxing in the least. He stepped around his host. After Fahin, Uldyssian did not want Ehmad also paying a price for his friendship.

But all the woman did was say, “The prince has introduced us.” Her two companions left their own hoods up. “You spoke of the traitor and murderer Zorun Tzin.”

Uldyssian measured each of them but could not decide just who was the most dangerous. “I did. I need to warn the mage clans—”

“You warn us, you warn them. You wish to speak to them, you speak to us.”

This was not how Uldyssian had intended it, but he had no choice. First, the spellcasters had to be warned of the danger in their own midst. That in itself might create an opening he could use to forge some sort of alliance against the Cathedral.

“First, have you found Zorun Tzin?” he asked.

“It should be obvious that we have not.”

“I mean, when was the last time anyone saw him?”

“We saw him last.” Amolia glanced at her two companions, then continued, “Just before he fled to his underground chambers. Something must have happened—and we assume it concerned you.”

“It did, but not as you think. Tzin had a servant, too, the giant.”

“Terul. We saw what was left of him. Your work?”

Uldyssian dared not deny it. “But not for the reason you think. That thing was no longer Terul. I don’t know for how long that was true, but I suspect he’d already possessed the giant when Zorun Tzin chose to slaughter Master Fahin’s personal caravan.”

“You verify it was Zorun who slew all?” asked the one called Nurzani in an incredibly deep voice. “That is what was suspected.”

“Yes, he did it…but there was another who enabled him to do so with such…completeness. It was he who possessed the servant. You know him by the name of Malic.”

Amolia frowned. “As in the high priest of the Order of Mefis? Malic, who is, by our best reckoning, dead?”

The son of Diomedes reluctantly nodded. “Dead…but deadly still.”

He explained to them what had happened to Malic and how the priest had been brought back. Uldyssian described his shock when Terul had admitted to being the spirit of the priest come back for vengeance and then his desperate battle to escape the vile specter. He left out only the stone, not certain if it was something that he wished to bring to the attention of the mages.

“And how does this pertain to Zorun Tzin?” the shadow called Kethuus demanded. “You said that you killed the giant.”

“I thought I did…but I think Malic still survived in the body long enough. I saw Zorun Tzin in the streets just after the prince found me…only now I think the eyes weren’t his.”

Nurzani leaned toward Amolia. “Recall the mage’s staff lying abandoned as if of no consequence. A priest would not require such.”

“Malic’s accomplishments were known well to the mage clans,” Kethuus interjected, “but to move on from host to host after death, that sounds too incredible!”

Amolia glared at Uldyssian. “It was not the high priest’s skills that enabled him first to cheat his doom, but the questionable acts of two brothers…but yes, I think Malic capable of perverting it further still.”

“But the bodies don’t last,” pointed out Uldyssian. “How long Tzin’s might, I don’t know.”

“Zorun Tzin was a spellcaster of exceptional skill and questionable judgment,” the female member of the trio stated. “But his physical worthiness would certainly not make him my first choice should I be in such a state as you claim Malic is in.”