Prisoner of Fate (9 page)

‘We’ve sworn an oath to Jarudha.’

Hawkeye laughed as he made his way towards a plush chair, indicating for Law to do the same. ‘An oath. Words aren’t going to stop men’s urges.’

‘An oath to Jarudha is not words,’ Law replied indignantly.

‘Neither is the urge of the loins,’ Hawkeye rejoined, sitting. ‘His Eminence has set a hard goal and he’ll learn the hard way that his Seers are merely men.’

‘I would not expect you to understand,’ Law said tartly as he sank into the red chair.

Hawkeye grinned. ‘No. I don’t understand. And I don’t want to.’ He laughed to himself, shaking his head. ‘So, to business. Why the urgent need to see me?’

Law met the king’s inquiring gaze as he said, ‘Two matters. One is purely business. The other pertains personally to you.’

‘Business first,’ Hawkeye decided.

Law cleared his throat. ‘His Eminence asks for exclusive ownership of the Fallen Star islands.’

Hawkeye blinked. ‘Why?’

‘It is a wish from Jarudha that his disciples should have a place to be consecrated as holy.’

‘Yes, but why the islands?’

‘They are untainted with humanity’s sins. They are far enough away from the mainland to discourage the curious from visiting them. There is good ground on the second-largest island for the building of a monastery.’

Hawkeye leaned forward in his chair, enveloping the porter glass in his broad left hand. ‘I thought the Fallen Star islands were used for agricultural production?’

Law nodded. ‘The Merchant family has a lease on the islands. We would honour the existing leasing arrangements.’

‘The Merchant family has been peddling illicit substances for a long time,’ Hawkeye noted. ‘You would be taking responsibility for drug production. Are you certain His Eminence would really honour the lease?’

‘His Eminence is aware of the arrangement. The affairs of the worldly have no interest for us. Besides, the lease has only two years to run before it is up for renegotiation.’

Hawkeye smiled. ‘You leave no stones unturned, do you?’

‘It is written that, “He who bargains without understanding the consequences from all sides of the table, bargains with nothing.” His Eminence has carefully considered this matter,’ said Law calmly.

Hawkeye leaned back into the soft folds of his armchair and sipped at his porter. ‘Tell His Eminence that the king will also carefully consider this matter. The production of euphoria has long been an enigmatic
issue, one neither encouraged nor discouraged, for many reasons, and I would hate to have its access to the masses terminated outside of my control.’

Law allowed himself to smile knowingly as he replied, ‘His Eminence fully understands both the fiscal and legal ramifications for Your Highness and he would expect there to be productive dialogue in relation to these matters.’

Hawkeye nodded. ‘And the personal matter?’

This time Law leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin on his fingertips, and lowered his voice. ‘This matter is—we should say—very delicate, and His Eminence has instructed me to tell Your Highness that what I say after this point is both circumspect in intent and a conversation that never actually happened.’

Hawkeye mimicked the Seer, leaning forward in like fashion, almost in mockery. ‘I’m intrigued. Be circumspect then.’

Law’s expression flashed indignation at the king’s mockery, but he let the emotion pass and said, ‘The Seers have little interest in the worldly affairs of men, but His Eminence believes that when the time of succession comes, the title of King Ironfist the Third would best suit your second son. Prince Shadow is a man of Jarudhan virtue, a worldly prince whose spiritual integrity greatly pleases Jarudha. This I haven’t said,’ he concluded and sat back as if expecting his message to need no response from the king.

Hawkeye did not move for several moments, as if ruminating on the statement’s worth, but then stood. ‘I’m sorry to hear that you’re no longer able to share my excellent wines, Law. Shame really. I’ve received some wonderful varieties from the latest Ranu shipments.’ He waited for Law to also stand and continued speaking as he ushered the Seer from his
chamber. ‘I hear the younger Seers are spreading the Word among a wider number of the population. It’s good to see someone actively encouraging the poor Shessian wretches to embrace the civilised world. I’m glad to hear also that the prayer sessions are being conducted in the official language. Someone has to guide these lost souls towards enlightenment. Please give my warm regards to His Eminence and your colleagues, and assure them that I’ve heard their requests and will deal with them in due course according to their merit. May Jarudha bless your days.’

He left the Seer in the company of his guards in the main hall and retreated to his chamber where he poured another measure of porter and sat again in his chair, staring at the painting of the old Kerwyn capital, Storm, pondering the Seer’s latest political manoeuvres. ‘No interest in the worldly affairs of men,’ he muttered and snorted before downing the porter in a single swallow.

S
potting the ragged beggars sitting against the rough stone wall of the cooper’s store, Seer Prayer crossed the road, but when he reached the other side and realised his acolytes had stopped to talk to the beggars he shook his head and watched the sorry scene unfold. The beggars, three Shessian orphans in their early teens, always sat outside the coopery, and since Prayer walked this street in the Southern Quarter once every ten days on his way to supervise the local temple, he was accustomed to the regulars. He knew these boys only ever wanted pennies to buy or beg for euphoria. He had tried to coax them to the temple, but they were truly lost souls, wallowing daily in drug-induced stupors, like all of the sad, godless descendants of the barbarians who had inhabited the city before it was liberated by King Ironfist the Elder.

He watched the three acolytes offer Jarudha’s guidance to the beggars whose hands were fervently extended for copper coins, and smiled grimly as the acolytes retreated from the outburst of threatening vitriol that erupted from the frustrated boys. ‘Seer, we tried to lead them to the light, but they refused,’ the eldest acolyte said apologetically as they gathered around Prayer.

‘You did as you needed, Waterwell,’ Prayer offered in compensation, ‘but this city is as full of the walking dead as it is of the willing souls.’

‘Surely we should be finding ways to save these souls as well, Seer?’ Waterwell asked.

‘The walking dead are beyond redemption, Waterwell. Remember that it is written, “The damned have no souls for they have sacrificed them to gain worldly pleasures.”’ The young acolyte nodded, but Prayer made a point of remembering Waterwell’s indiscretion in questioning Jarudhan law. His Eminence, Seer Scripture, a strict taskmaster on heretical matters, was unforgiving of Seers or acolytes who strayed from the exact lessons of
The Word
, and he insisted that the senior Seers watched their brethren for signs of heresy. So that the teachings of Jarudha remained pure in the Final Days before the coming of the Demon Horsemen to herald Paradise, those impure in thought or deed were to be ruthlessly rooted out of the ranks of the faithful.

‘His Eminence asked me to see how the experiments are progressing,’ said Seer Word, addressing his colleague, Creator, as he entered the Invention Chamber beneath the temple.

Creator smiled and made the sacred sign of the Jarudhan circle in greeting. ‘Exceedingly well,’ he announced. ‘Why hasn’t His Eminence come in person?’

‘He is unwell again,’ Word explained. ‘It seems the surgeon supplied by the king is not as good at curing ailments as the king would have us believe. His Eminence will rest for another few days until the temperature has gone.’

‘Why hasn’t His Eminence used euphoria and self-cured?’

Word’s expression became dour. ‘His Eminence
believes that sometimes it is better to leave one’s health in the hands of Jarudha than to tempt His wrath.’

‘I will pay him a visit,’ Creator offered.

‘It’s better that he remain undisturbed,’ Word advised. ‘He is in constant prayer.’

‘I understand,’ Creator said, nodding. ‘But let me show you what has transpired.’ He led Word past the rows of acolytes scribing books, through an archway and down steps into a larger chamber dominated by a central, circular dais. Nine acolytes were working at benches along the perimeter of the chamber and a host of wire-lightning bulbs lit the space. ‘We have been extrapolating on the work originated by my predecessor, Seer Reason. You know that euphoria expands our minds and allows us to perform Blessings. Let me demonstrate something new.’ He clapped his hands to get the attention of the acolytes. ‘Mirrorblade—show Seer Word your Blessing.’

A lithe acolyte, head shaved and wearing the yellow robe according to Jarudhan custom, reached for a phial of amber liquid, rose from his stool and mounted the dais. He bowed to the Seers, then opened the phial and drank the contents. ‘You’ll notice that the euphoria we’ve developed works with greater rapidity,’ Creator explained as Mirrorblade stretched his arms and opened his hands, palms upward. Flames appeared on his palms. ‘Mirrorblade?’ Creator called. The acolyte, flames still burning, looked up. ‘See?’ Creator asked of Word. ‘The Blessing is no longer affected by interruptions. Mirrorblade is able to interact with the world as if he was not using his Blessing.’

‘Impressive,’ Word replied.

‘Wait,’ Creator said. ‘This is just a part of what we have done.’ He called to the remaining acolytes. ‘Form a circle on the dais!’ The eight acolytes left their work
stations, each drinking from a phial, and joined Mirrorblade on the dais. They formed a circle, an arm span from each neighbour, and raised their arms as Mirrorblade had done before. In the circle’s centre, a huge flame leapt to life. ‘See?’ Creator cried excitedly. ‘See the miracle Jarudha has granted us? We can amplify a Blessing with multiple minds. What was thought impossible is now possible. Reason’s research was limited by the dosage of euphoria taken by any single person, but now the limit of the Blessing’s potency is only the number of people involved. More people, greater potency.’

Word studied the phenomenon until Creator gave the acolytes the order to end the demonstration. As the young men returned to their work, Word asked, ‘Does this mean that the age-old issue of the Conduit has been resolved?’

Creator nodded, but then shook his head. ‘We have taken a step forward, but there are still difficult matters. One is the purity of the euphoria. We need the best quality.’

‘I think that is being taken care of. If the king shows wisdom, we will soon have access to the crops on the Fallen Star islands,’ said Word.

‘At what cost?’ Creator asked. ‘We are not wealthy and the traders ask high prices for the best quality.’

‘Even the traders are subjects of the king,’ Word noted dryly. ‘Apart from the quality?’

‘Learning to think as one,’ said Creator. ‘It has taken many experiments before the acolytes could do what you witnessed. And the fire Blessing is a very simple task. Opening the gates for the Demon Horsemen will be much more difficult.’

Word ran his eyes over the chamber and noted the spinning rotors attached to a flat winged construction suspended from the ceiling. ‘Flight?’ he asked.

Creator’s face became serious. ‘With regret I must report that much of Seer Reason’s and even Seer Faith’s experimentations bordered on heresy. They believed that to fly required building something as light as a bird, lighter than air even, but Jarudha’s great plans demand that we build something heavier, with an engine to drive it into the air. We are making progress again after so many years of failure, but the progress is slow.’

‘When will you make another attempt?’

Creator scratched his cheek. ‘I think when the weather is good.’

‘The weather has been mild for several days.’

‘No. The wind must come from the west before we can launch the flyer,’ Creator explained. ‘The conditions have to be perfect or we will mar two years’ work.’

‘Then I will await your call,’ Word concluded. ‘I will inform His Eminence of your progress and I’m certain that he will be pleased.’ He made the sign of the circle and bowed his head as he withdrew.

His Eminence, Seer Scripture, leaned against the basket wall and gazed over the vista five hundred spans below, enjoying the mild breeze on his craggy face as a distraction from his nagging vertigo. The distant southern hills vibrated with the purple haze of eucalyptus and to the east the mountains majestically marched like sentries along the borders of the nation. Directly below, Port of Joy, cradled between the ocean and Victory Plains, spread along the River of Kings, shrouded in factory smoke along its southern quarters, but the green-tiled roofs of the Northern Quarter and the slate-grey palace and temple roofs were clear and distinct. White sails dotted the bay and he could just make out flocks of seagulls against the foam-flecked dark-blue water. Just above the airbird’s rainbow canopy, deceptively close, almost as though he could
reach out and touch them, clouds drifted with the breeze. As much as he hated heights, flying was a fascination he couldn’t resist.

‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’

Scripture turned to Prince Shadow and smiled. ‘A miracle of Jarudha.’

‘The world is a miracle of Jarudha,’ Shadow rejoined. ‘It is written that “Paradise is all that can be seen when the mind is clear and the heart is pure.” I see a glimpse of Paradise every time I am up here.’

‘Your knowledge of
The Word
exceeds even the best of my acolytes,’ Scripture complimented.

‘I’ve been taught by the master of
The Word
,’ Shadow replied with a faint deferential bow of his head. ‘Is it not also written that, “The pupil who listens best to the master will himself one day be the master”?’

Scripture smiled wryly, nodding. ‘Those are the words, my pupil, but also heed the warnings that come with that responsibility. “He who would be the master must first show that he can serve without ambition.”’

Shadow nodded and also adopted a smile. ‘Wisdom. I sometimes wonder why you chose to pass your gift to me when I am not born of your Seer bloodline. We should be enemies, according to history, but you are more father to me than my own father.’

‘We cannot help that we are born as we are. But Jarudha knows who will rise from the common dross of humanity to serve Him so He brought me to you and you to me and that is how it has come about,’ said Scripture, placing a comforting hand on Shadow’s shoulder. Then he lifted his hand and gazed west across the ocean. ‘Your father does what he was born to do and does what he knows best to do for his sons. He is an earthly king and earthly kings pass to dust. Do not blame him for what he does. He serves Jarudha in name and with money, and he hopes to buy a place in
Paradise with his actions, but his heart is full of sin and he will not see Jarudha’s eternal kingdom. It was your mother, not your father, who brought you and I together. To her you owe homage as Jarudha’s servant.’

‘I haven’t seen my mother for fifteen years,’ Shadow remarked. ‘Father sent her away and never told me why.’

‘Kings have a habit of sending away wives when they want a younger woman to warm their bed,’ Scripture noted nonchalantly. ‘Your mother was a good woman and deserved better than your father. I believe that Jarudha is keeping her safe in His hands.’

Shadow was silent in response, until he shot a burst of flame into the airbird’s heart to keep it afloat, after which he said calmly, ‘My father still talks of Inheritor as his successor.’

‘As a father would,’ said Scripture. ‘I would want to see my firstborn son rise to fulfil the destiny for which he was born.’

‘You have no children?’

Scripture turned to Shadow a moment, his dark-blue eyes scrutinising the prince, before replying, ‘The path to Paradise cannot be the pathway of a sinful nature. Desires of the flesh distract men from their higher purpose. In the
Book of Alun
it is written that, “The man under the yoke of carnal lust can never aspire to Paradise.” So it is that I have foresworn the lustful pathways of my predecessors who fathered a bastard population, and all who follow me to Paradise must do the same. Chastity, sobriety—purity of mind and spirit—this is the path to Paradise.’

‘You walk a hard path, Your Eminence.’

Scripture’s gaze softened. ‘I did not always walk this path,’ he confessed. ‘I have my share of sins to expunge from my youth. Jarudha only showed me His righteous path when I was closer to your age.’

Shadow grinned, his neatly trimmed beard and moustache framing his thin lips and white teeth, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief. ‘Then there is still hope for me,’ he said.

Scripture also smiled and nodded. ‘Even for you.’

‘The euphoria addiction is increasing daily. The Shessian bastards break into our shops and factories to steal money to feed their addiction. They break into our homes and threaten our families.’

Hawkeye listened patiently to the manufacturer’s representative’s speech in the Council Chamber. Established by his father three years before his accidental death to appease the restless Kerwyn citizens, made up entirely of elected representatives from the powerful financial lobbies in the kingdom—the merchants, the manufacturers, the farmers—the Council met every moon cycle to air their concerns, discuss issues and advise the king. Matters almost always revolved selfishly around how they could make more money and pay less tax, but sometimes—in fact, rarely, Hawkeye mused—the Council generated good advice on which he acted.

‘Minor matters,’ a new speaker, a mercantile representative, began, dismissing the previous speaker disdainfully. ‘Euphoria is the largest and most consistent generator of profit in the kingdom.’

‘For you!’ a dissenter yelled.

‘For all of us,’ the speaker rebutted. ‘The taxes from the sale of euphoria pay for half of the military costs, pay for the road and sewer building projects—’

‘Money for shit!’ cried a voice. ‘How appropriate,’ and the assembly broke into laughter until the Council chairman restored order.

‘My point is,’ the mercantile representative recommenced, ‘the Shessian scum are more docile with euphoria than without it.’

‘That’s because they won’t work!’ yelled a farmers’ representative.

‘And they don’t plot against us, either,’ the mercantile representative retorted. ‘Who here remembers the early years? Who remembers the acts of subversion, the killings, the reprisals, the explosions and destruction of Kerwyn property?’ Mutterings filled the Council Chamber. ‘You all know what I talk about. Our fathers, even some of our grandfathers, lived in constant fear of Shessian insurrection. As beaten as they were, as threatened as they might have been with executions and the king’s law, they played havoc with our businesses and our people. Not the king’s law—’ The speaker cast a cautious glance in the king’s direction, but Hawkeye’s expression remained implacable. ‘—and not executions or imprisonment stopped them. It was euphoria. We gave the poor what they most wanted. Not freedom—that comes with responsibilities and heartache. We gave them pleasure. We gave them a reason to want us to stay. Cheap, accessible euphoria.’