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Authors: Jon Sprunk

Tags: #Fantasy, #Fantasy - General, #Fantasy fiction, #Fiction - Fantasy, #Fiction

Shadow's Son (12 page)

BOOK: Shadow's Son
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"You know well that my plan could not allow for that. The timing of
the Belastire job had to take place exactly as it did, far from Othir and
with no suspicion thrown in my direction. That you did well, but still it
was a mistake to involve the other assassin."

A spider crawled from under the desk and scurried across the hardwood floor. Ral extended his foot to crush it.

"Caim is lowborn scum who needed to be put in his place." He examined the sole of his boot. "Anyway, it makes little difference. With
Donovus out of the picture, another obstacle on the Elector Council has
been eliminated."

Vassili slammed down his cup, splashing tea on the desk. "Earl Frenig
was the crux of this scheme! His daughter escaped from your men and ran
off to God-knows-where. And what's worse, your dupe is free as well.
With them loose, all my plans are in jeopardy. Do you know how long I
have labored, how many assets have been expended, all to see this day? I
will not waste this opportunity."

Ral tugged at his chin. Was it possible Caim had taken her? But why?
What did he think to gain from it? He couldn't possibly know her value.

"I don't see the problem." Ral held up a hand to forestall any protest.
"Please, Radiance, hear me out. All Caim knows is that he killed an old
nobleman and a few soldiers."

"He knows more than that. Earl Frenig was dead before your man ever
entered the house."

"Dead? I don't understand. The plan-"

"I modified the plan. I did not trust your men to time their entrance with precision. A moment too soon and they would be party to murder,
leaving more loose ends to clean up. Too late and we'd have what we have
now, an unaccounted asset free in the city with knowledge that could
destroy everything. Two assets, if the girl saw anything, and she likely
did. So I sent another agent."

Ral chewed on that for a moment. What other machinations had the
archpriest devised without consulting him?

"You never told me why we're making all this effort over an old man,
not even an elector at that, and his brat of a daughter."

"Never mind the reasons. Your job is to carry out your orders to my
satisfaction, and I am very unsatisfied tonight."

"Be that as it may, it hardly makes a difference.
Caim is alone now, a
fugitive with an entire city searching for him. He cannot go to the authorities. If he's hindered with a girl, he'll soon be caught, and then we'll have
them both."

"You mean the prelate will have them. Don't you think this thug, this
Caim, will spill everything he knows for a chance to save his life?"

"He doesn't know anything of import. Besides, he'll never make it to
the dungeons. I will make sure of that."

Vassili shook his head. "I'm not willing to gamble with happenstance.
I want them both eliminated immediately. My forces are in place. Before
the next new moon, Benevolence will suffer an untimely mishap. The
Council will convene to elect a new prelate, and I will offer myself as a
candidate for the high office, a motion which will meet with quick
approval."

"And as your faithful servant, I expect my promised reward. Our
agreement called for a lordship, lands, and title."

The archpriest picked up another scroll. "You will receive your due
compensation when this matter is completed. Mind the task I have laid
before you. I want the girl and this man dead. You may go now."

Ral grabbed his cloak and left. The manservant preceded him through
the doorway. Just as Ral crossed the threshold, Vassili called out, "Don't
fail me again. My patience is almost at its end."

Ral turned and made a bow. "As you command, Radiance."

The soles of Ral's leather boots slapped on the tiles as he stalked
through the atrium, past the bodyguards who didn't look as if they had so much as blinked since he entered. Ignoring the manservant who held
open the door, he strode out into the brisk night air. This business was
getting out of hand. Once he had thought Vassili would be the herald to
all his dreams, but more and more of late he was beginning to doubt the
archpriest's true intentions. If Vassili managed to gain the prelacy, he
might decide that his old allies were too dangerous to keep alive. Ral had
no intention of being discarded after his work was done. Perhaps it was
time to form a contingency plan. One couldn't be too cautious in matters
such as these. A man had to look out for his own interests.

Another thought nagged at Ral as he vanished into the shadowed
streets of the city. If it wasn't Caim, who killed the old man?

Vassili frowned at the water-stained parchment in his hand.

Your Radiant Grace,

Conditions in the state of Eregoth continue to deteriorate. An influx of Utheno-
rian mercenaries-brigands in all but name-into the usurper's armies has
foiled our latest efforts to undermine the local viceroy. Rumors of strange happenings in the highlands continue to persist. Most of the peasants have fled or been
taken to parts unknown.

We beg Your Radiance to send additional men and monies, as both are in
perilously short supply.

Your Servant, with all humility,

Jacob Mourning, Aspirant

With a curse, Vassili tossed the letter on the desk amid a pile of
papers, all bearing similar reports from his agents in the north. Some had
not bothered to report at all. He was tired of their complaints, the endless wheedling for additional funds and soldiers. He was more concerned
with events here at home. Banditry and lawlessness plagued the countryside. Arnos encroached from the east, and the prelate's "holy war" against
the god-kings of Akeshia in the distant east had left Nimea with inadequate forces to guard her own borders.

Vassili broke the elaborate seal on the next missive and unfolded its
stiff parchment. This one he found more to his liking.

Brother in Faith,

We most happily accept your gracious gift to the impoverished unfortunates of
Parvia. As the Holy Texts profess, surely your heartfelt generosity shall be
remembered forever.

Furthermore, we hereby agree to an alliance of purpose on all matters that
come before the Council.

Archpriest Gaspar, Viscount of Parvia

After reading the message, Vassili folded it with care and placed it in
the hidden compartment under the bottom drawer of his desk. A dozen
archpriests presided over the twelve holy districts of Nimea. Together, they
formed the Elector Council, a body ordained to advise the prelate and, when
necessary, elect his successor. With Donovus gone and Gaspar's support, he
held half of the Council securely in his pocket. Now, if only Ral could be
counted upon to perform his task with alacrity, all would be set.

A shiver went through Vassili as the temperature dropped and shadows
stirred in the corners of the room. A figure emerged from the darkness. Tall
and lean, almost to the point of gauntness, he wore a simple monk's robe,
black as the night, cinched at the waist by a plain length of cord. His pale
face hovered in the candlelight. Its stern lines came together to form a powerful jaw, a twisted nose. White scars creased hollow cheeks, old wounds
poorly healed. Shadows smudged the sockets of his deep-set eyes. Black
pupils like cold, bottomless pits swallowed the light.

"Levictus." Vassili made a show of looking over the latest plans for the
cathedral's baptistery. "You overheard?"

The figure moved to the spot where Ral had stood only moments
before. His voice, though only a whisper, carried through the chamber.

"Nothing remains hidden from the Dark."

The archpriest reached up to touch the medallion on his chest and
forced himself to look upon the man's ruined features. Levictus winced as
candlelight reflected off the symbols etched on the golden surface, and Vassili allowed himself a satisfied smile. Sometimes a pet, no matter how
faithful, needed to be brought to heel.

He jerked his chin toward the doorway through which Ral had
departed. "That one grows bolder every day."

Levictus opened his left hand slightly, and then made a flicking gesture as if to say,
The man is insignificant, an insect
, but there was something
ominous in his gaze.

"In any case," Vassili continued, "there is a more dire matter at hand.
Namely, your failure in Ostergoth. You assured me that your necromancy
could protect Reinard. I made guarantees based upon that assurance,
guarantees which are now returning to haunt me. The duke's brother sits
on the Council. He will no doubt demand concessions as a result of this
debacle, concessions that will cost me dearly. Well? What say you?"

Still, Levictus said nothing.

Vassili exhaled a long breath. He was tempted to reach for his medallion again. The sunburst sigil of the True Faith was perhaps the only thing
his servant feared in the entire world, having been tortured and scarred
under its standard. Yet he kept his hands on the arms of his chair. He
would show restraint.

"For the love of the Light, man. What is it? Speak."

"Have I not done all that you asked of me?" Levictus stood perfectly
still as he spoke, but the scars on his cheeks rippled with every word. "I
have spied on your enemies. It was I who discovered the old one's intentions, and I who silenced him. I have done all that you asked, to the letter
of your expectations. Would you agree this is true?"

"Yes, Levictus. And forget not that it was I who saved you from the
Inquest's torture cells."

Vassili would never forget that day. Twenty years ago, the Church
hierarchs saw the filth and immorality lurking throughout the realm and,
having secured the emperor's sanction, launched a pogrom to rid the
nation of its heretical pagan roots. The fanes of the old gods were rooted
out and destroyed, their priests imprisoned or slain on the spot along with
any others who refused to convert to the True Faith. Levictus's family was
among those swept up by deputized officers of the Holy Order of Inquest.
Vassili had been merely an ambitious praetor at the time. On a tour inside
the Inquest's dungeons, he'd noticed a particular young man. According to the jailers, his parents and brother had expired under questioning, but
this young man refused to repent, though he had been tortured for weeks
and was slated for execution on the next day. Vassili sensed something
special in this youth, as if their paths had been destined to cross. He used
his authority to have the prisoner released and took the waif into his own
household. Not long after, his new protege began to display certain
unusual traits. With time and study, Vassili realized the amazing treasure
he had unearthed.

"Have I failed in any task you set before me, master?" Levictus
stepped toward the desk. "Or given less respect than was due?"

The archpriest folded his hands within his sleeves. "No, Levictus. You
have served me faithfully. I do not debate it."

"Then when, master? When shall I have my revenge?"

There it was. Vassili chided himself for not seeing it sooner. He never
expected the man to forget the torments of his past, but sometimes it
slipped his mind. When he'd saved Levictus from the stake, he had promised the youth his vengeance against the Holy Inquest for what they had
done to his family. Over the years, he had sustained Levictus on tidbits of
revenge, the odd Inquestor or misogynous cleric, fools caught sodomizing
their acolytes or plundering the Church coffers. But he understood what
Levictus truly wanted.

Vassili composed himself. "Soon, Levictus, if you follow my instructions. It is no easy thing we aspire to achieve. Our realm seethes with corruption. Merchants scheme and bribe their way to high position. Harlots
peddle their wares on every street corner in Low Town. Debauchery reigns
in the houses of God. Civilization itself teeters on a precipice."

"When, master?"

"Degeneracy is festering in every corner of the realm. Heresy breeds
in the streets of our very city. And yet Benevolence does nothing to halt
the corruption, but squats in his fortress like a bloated leech and dreams
of past glories."

Levictus stared at him.

"Find the girl! By the Noose, Levictus, find her and we can move on
to the final phase. Then, you will receive everything you desire."

Levictus maintained his gloomy stare a few seconds more, and then
dropped his gaze to the floor. "Yes, master."

"Good. Now go and do not return until you have good news for me."

He made a show of comparing blueprints as Levictus retreated into
the shadowy corner from which he had emerged. Moments later, the chill
faded from the room.

Vassili leaned back and released a long sigh. Levictus was becoming
increasingly difficult to manage, and the thought of the sorcerer running
free, no longer under his control, was enough to send him reaching for the
bellpull. He needed a drink-something stronger than tea.

While he waited for his servant to appear, Vassili played with the idea
of pitting Ral against Levictus. With luck, they would eliminate each
other and rid him of both problems. It was an interesting line of thought,
one he filed away for the future. He didn't dare upset the delicate balance
so close to the fruition of his dream. At this moment, the prelate slept
soundly within the walls of Castle DiVecci, never suspecting that his
doom approached on silent steps. Vassili almost wished he could see the
look on the old fool's face when the end came.

BOOK: Shadow's Son
12.44Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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