Neversfall (25 page)

Jhoqo stopped a few paces from the door, his eyes narrowing as he faced her and said, “Yes, that is so.”

Adeenya started to speak, but no words came. She ran her hands through her ruddy hair and leaned against the windowed wall. “Maybe this person of whom you speak…” she said, hoping Jhoqo would finish the thought.

When no response came, Adeenya looked up to find him staring hard at her. “When I started this mission, I thought I knew what being in the military meant,” she said.

“And now?” Jhoqo responded.

“I don’t… you were right, you know, when you said that I live for the camaraderie of this life. More than anything, I long for that sense of community, of knowing that the man next to me on that battle line is living as much for me as for himself,” she said. “I thought I had that. Maybe I did, even, but when I saw your men, I knew there was more,” she said. “I’m not going to pretend that I agreed with all of your decisions as their leader, but they followed you without question, and they really seemed to enjoy working side by side. They know one another, and they care about one another.”

“Your soldiers don’t?” he asked.

“They do. We do,” she said, sighing. “But part of me always wonders…”

“What?” he asked.

“They’re mercenaries, more or less. Are they here solely for the coin?” she said, locking eyes with the man.

Jhoqo smiled and said, “And what’s wrong with profiting from the work you do? A soldier works harder than any other person alive. My troops and I all benefit from our work.”

She shook her head. “But you didn’t join an outfit like the Maquar for that. You joined because you wanted to dedicate yourself to something bigger.”

“But the two can go together,” the Maquar said. “In fact, they must. That’s what most people miss. That’s what Taennen misses.

“Jeradeem Seltarir, father of the Adama, taught us that everything is part of everything else, no? That’s why he was such a fine trader. He knew that the more business he did and the more coin he made, then the more he could spend to improve the lives of others, and the more he could pay the people in his own chaka,” Jhoqo said, bending down to rest on his haunches. “Commerce is our lifeblood, and we must defend it.”

“Taennen does not agree with you?” Adeenya asked.

Jhoqo sighed, settling on the floor, his legs crossing easily. If she wasn’t careful and she ran, he would catch her with just as little effort. “It’s not a matter of agreement, it is one of understanding. He has grown no closer to understanding during the past several years. I had hopes for him, but it appears Taennen will never be any more than he is now,” Jhoqo said.

“And what is that?” she asked.

“Like most men, he is a tool, a device to carry out the commands of the craftsman who wields him.” “So he’s a good soldier?” she asked. “Excellent, I would say,” Jhoqo replied.

“But?”

“A good soldier follows orders and even thinks creatively, but he is a tool. A good leader, on the other hand, needs to do more,” Jhoqo said. “A good leader’s orders can be mediocre, but he has the guts, the fortitude, and the assertiveness to give them and see them done.”

“So Taennen is lacking confidence?” Adeenya asked, knowing the man’s answer and finding herself grudgingly agreeing with him.

“Correct.”

“What about his decision in the battle against the formians?” she asked.

“A costly one, to be sure,” Jhoqo said. “However, if he had had the willpower to stand up to me when I addressed him about it, to stand by his decision and not even offer to defend it, then he would have shown more promise. As it was, he realized that he could not change things. Once he understood that, he did not mope on the subject further. A positive step, certainly.”

“So your goal is to help your countrymen, not just your fellow Maquar?” Adeenya asked, eyes flicking to the door. The Chondathans’ footsteps had not returned.

“To help all people of the Shining South, not just those from Estagund,” Jhoqo said.

“How?”

“By opening new doors for them, by giving them new things to learn, new ideas to consider, and new trades to profit from,” Jhoqo said.

Eyes squinted, Adeenya asked, “How do you manage that?”

Jhoqo smiled. “I’m afraid I can’t share that with you.” “How does letting Marlke die achieve that?” she said, peeling the accusatory tone from her voice.

The man took a deep breath and said, “Like Taennen, Marlke was a device, and he had served his purpose. He was no longer capable of adapting to the situation, changing to be useful. In fact, it was only in death that he could serve our cause one final time.”

“Tell me about the cause,” she said.

Jhoqo merely shook his head.

“Then how am I to learn about this way of being that you’ve shared with me?” she asked. She was losing him, and fast.

“You’re probably not going to, nor do you even want to. You’ve only been asking in order to distract me and purchase some much needed time to think for yourself,” he replied.

“You’ve made me think,” she said.

“Maybe. Maybe not. It doesn’t matter,” he said.

“Why not?”

“Because I cannot take the chance of setting you free and I cannot kill you,” Jhoqo said with a shrug before turning onto his side to prop himself to his feet. “He would never allow it. I would jeopardize my place in the coming era if I acted to bring about your demise.”

Adeenya saw her opportunity and took it. Dashing forward as Jhoqo came to one knee, Adeenya plowed her shoulder into the side of the man’s face, bouncing herself off the wall but forcing him to take most of the impact. Scrambling to her feet, she dived into him again, this time sending her knee into his chest, letting it continue upward into his throat as her right hand snatched for the hilt of his sword.

Shuffling sounds outside the door told her the guards had returned and heard the ruckus inside. Without regard for stealth, she unsheathed the man’s enormous falchion and kicked him in the jaw. The footsteps outside were just beyond the door. She had to move quickly.

Adeenya drew the sword high over her head. She felt something in her hands, a thrumming that urged her forward. The enchanted blade pulsed with power. She charged forward, the sword plunging ahead, biting into and through the wooden door with a loud report. Splinters flew outward, blasting the passageway beyond.

Adeenya barked in pain at the vibration running through her arms. With no time to see if her captor was still prone from the beating, Adeenya ran from the room, shoving past the surprised guards, and sprinted down the stairs. The hammering footsteps of the guards chasing her drove her on. She had no idea where she would go or what she would do, but freedom beckoned and she kept on running.

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chapter seuenteer)

^ince he had arrived at the citadel, Taennen Tamoor had seen things he never would have believed possible and felt things he hoped never to feel again. He pushed open the door to the massive tower known as Neversfall and trudged up the stairs. A thousand shades of gray and black unwound before him as he climbed the steps. Lucha’s light, filtered by the approaching clouds, aided the torches hung on the walls in guiding him. Upon reaching the top, he stepped into the tower room as delicately as if he were walking a tightrope. Khatib’s face smiled at him in his mind as Taennen stood in front of one of the enormous viewing portals.

The Aerilpar forest looked closer and more real from that height than it had when he had been among its trees. The woods stretched before him as far as he could see, and somewhere beyond were the Giant’s Belt Mountains. Nothing else was in sight, like being in the middle of the sea with only water around you. Each hillock of the plains was like a wave meandering on its way to a hidden shore. The only islands in the sea were Neversfall and the Aerilpar. Taennen scanned the forest for a long while.

Taennen had heard that when certain tracking animals were given a scent and ordered to chase it, they were

overcome with a kind of frantic fever that forced them to chase the scent until they found its source, no matter the cost. He recalled one story in which a man’s hunting dog had chased the smell of a wanted criminal—a young man who had raped the hunter’s daughter—for nearly three days straight, leaving the hunter far behind halfway through the first day. The hunter had, so the story went, camped and rested, following the tracks of his companion until he came upon the loyal creature. Weakened from a lack of food, covered in cuts and sores from its long journey, the dog had died, literally running itself to death in pursuit of its quarry. The hunter was saddened but was filled with pride in and thankfulness for his friend, for the dog had insured that the man would have his vengeance. No more than two bowshots away from the poor animal lay the criminal in a pool of his own dried blood, his legs rendered useless by the dog’s attacks.

Taennen felt as though he was beginning to understand the dog. Certain he had figured out something important, he ran through the citadel of Neversfall toward the only other potential source of information that might assist him. The night was warm, and sweat streamed down his face as he made his way toward the building that held the prisoners. Two of the Chondathan guards stood outside the structure, conversing quietly, their casual stance an insult to anyone who had ever served in a legitimate military unit. Taennen slowed his pace to model confidence without concern. He nodded to each guard in turn and reached for the door.

When the guards stepped together, shoulders touching in the middle to block his entry, Taennen said, “I’m to further interrogate the prisoners.”

“No one’s to see them,” the shorter Chondathan said, his compatriot nodding his agreement.

Taennen allowed his anger to ride across his face. He would not be denied access to his own prisoners by a Chondathan. He placed his hand on the hilt of his khopesh and leaned in close to the man who had spoken. Before he could speak, both guards had drawn their weapons and were snapping at him in their native tongue. Seeing the shorter man’s daggers and the other’s long sword waving in his face, Taennen took two steps back, raising his empty hand into the air.

“No one sees them,” the Chondathan repeated.

Taennen’s eyes narrowed as he said, “We’ll see.”

The guards traded looks and a few foreign words before facing him again, the previous speaker saying, “Do as you will.”

Taennen eyed each man and walked south of the building, turning past the next structure. He quickened his pace but tried to keep his step light as he went around the back of the quarters to come up behind the jail. Stretching his body, standing on the tips of his toes, Taennen tried to reach the narrow windows in the wall to no avail.

Summoning every lesson on stealth he had ever learned, Taennen lowered himself to the dirt and slid under the building, through the trench in the ground. He pushed on the stone floor above him, checking for loose slabs, but found none.

Slipping his khopesh from his belt, Taennen made his way toward the front of the jail. He reached the front corner of the building, took a deep breath, and began to move into view of the guards, ready to charge and catch them unaware. He felt certain he could get past the guards, although perhaps not without seriously harming them.

As he put his plan into motion, shouts emanated from the central courtyard in the strange Chondathan tongue.

The two guards, mere paces from him, acknowledged the calls and ran toward the source of the commotion. Taennen did not pause to wonder what the trouble was. A gift was a gift, his father had always said.

Taennen darted to the door. The fetid smell of the place had not improved since his last visit, and his nose burned with the acidic taint of waste. Some small corner in the back of his mind made note to reprimand the guards for not having followed his earlier orders to improve conditions for the formians.

“Guk!” Taennen whispered.

No response came and Taennen blinked, his eyes adjusting to dim light. Before him, standing in the very spot where he had last seen the creature, the large formian turned his head toward Taennen, his head cocked to one side. Taennen stepped in close and pulled off the creature’s gag and blindfold, his nose a mere handspan from the formians clattering mouth appendages, even though the bars separated them. The strange, hardened flesh that covered Guk’s body glistened in the torchlight, seeming radiant when compared to its dull appearance in the open sunlight of the battlefield where they had originally met.

“It was the dwarf, Marlke, you saw go into the tower,” Taennen said with no hint of a question in his tone.

“Yes,” Guk said.

The formians utter lack of an attempt to bluff, to strengthen his bargaining position, caused Taennen to step away from the creature. The otherworldly nature of the formian had never been so apparent, and Taennen suddenly felt ill-equipped to relate to Guk on even the most basic level. He stammered for a moment before gathering his wits and stepping forward again to stand face to face with the formian.

“The dwarf is dead,” Taennen said. “Did you see anyone else go into the tower? Did you see anyone else talking with the dwarf?”

“No,” Guk said. His antennae twitched as if considering a puzzle or some other curiosity.

“Your freedom… do you still want that?” Taennen asked.

Guk offered a simple nod, displaying no emotion.

Taennen felt a wave of relief, finally getting something positive from the strange captive. Though the thought of dangling freedom before a prisoner made his stomach roil, Taennen had no other bargaining chips.

“When we found you, where had you come from?”

“The trees,” Guk said.

“The forest? Aerilpar?” Taennen asked.

Guk agreed and said, “The forest provided many workers.”

“You were searching the forest for slaves before we encountered you?” the young durir asked.

“We retrieved many workers from there,” Guk answered, and for the first time, Taennen thought he might have detected something in the formian’s tone: irritation.

“How long were you there? How much of the forest did you see?” he asked.