William Forstchen - Down to the Sea

“Your order is expecting the second half of the payment by tomorrow.”

Hazin smiled. Direct, far too direct. It almost took the amusement out of the game.

“And, my sire?”

Yasim turned away. “How did you survive, may I ask?”

“The battle or my return?”

“The battle. The death of my brother is of far more interest than the internal squabbling of your precious society.”

Ah, so he is linking things together here, Hazin thought, his features revealing nothing.

“Easy enough. The captain of the frigate I arrived on, he was of my order.”

“Tell me, how many captains of my ships are of your order?”

Hazin looked down in the goblet, swirling the drink. The blood was still warm from the body it had been drawn from in the next room, as was the meat. An emperor could afford such a luxury, meat bred for texture and taste, the blood slowly tapped out from an open vein as required.

“The cost of such information, Your Highness,” and he shook his head.

“How about a trade, then?”

“Yes?”

“You leave here alive, I know who of my ship’s captains are of your order.”

Hazin smiled. “Too high. The bargain would be known, and then who would trust me or my order? I would be dead in a fortnight. There have been Grand Masters who have had reigns nearly as short, but I would prefer not to establish such a record.”

“So you prefer not to leave here alive? Know that it is obvious that your Grand Master preferred that you die in that last battle. That is why he personally gave to you the task of killing my brother.”

“That was obvious,” Hazin said dryly. “And that is why he is dead.”

Yasim turned away, going over to a sideboard where he picked up an ornately carved statue. It was a delicate creation in ivory, an abstract work of intricate swirls and curves. Hazin recognized it as one of the new school of Davin, an artist who had gained imperial favor of late. He wondered if Davin would still be in favor a moon from now.

“This took a year to create,” Yasim said softly, hands gently cradling the work. He sighed, holding it close for a moment then turning it over, lightly stroking it, fingers tracing the intricate design, then placed it back on the table.

“May I inquire as to the reason for my summoning?” Hazin ventured.

Yasim smiled. “There are times when you are the personification of subtlety, and then other times when you are as direct as the thrust of a dagger. Patience.”

Hazin returned to the table where the drinks were and poured another goblet full of the fresh blood. This time he sprinkled in a mixture of spices and a dark, heavy liqueur laced with a touch of malva.

The emperor smiled. “I did not know you indulged.”

“When it suits me.”

“And it does not dull you?”

“It does not dull. Your Highness. And besides, we of the Order are used to headier stuff.”

“I know.”

Hazin returned to the curtained veranda. The silky gauze was sheer enough that the view of the city was spread before them, the twinkling lights of the city below, the open harbor where the fleet lay at anchor.

From the temple of Ashva a dark pyre of smoke curled- their burnt offering for the day-while from the rival order of Vishta a brilliant fire blazed atop their pyramid temple. In the firelight he could see the writhing forms, their shrieking cries of agony carrying on the wind.

He wrinkled his nose with disgust at such primitive barbarity, made worse by the fact that the contemptible fools actually believed that there was a purpose to such sacrifices, that their idols desired the blood of human sacrifice. It served its purpose, though, for it kept his own in line. To be cast out of the Shiv was to be placed into the hands of one of half a dozen of the other cults.

It was such a delightful, intricate swirl of intrigue that gave purpose to life: the religious orders, the houses of the nobility, the eternal quest for dominance. He could not imagine a world without such interplay taken to the edge, for each maneuver held within it life or death. To dance upon the edge of the abyss, to cast one’s foes into that abyss, to at times see them fall while blessing your name, never realizing that you were the one who destroyed them was the thrill of existence.

“You still have not reacted to what I have said,” Yasim said softly, coming up to Hazin’s side. “Your Grand Master wanted you to die. Why did you wait till after you had fulfilled the contract to kill him? Why not before?”

Ah, so here was an inner fear, Hazin realized. For twenty years I stood by Hanaga’s side, yet killed him without hesitation. He wonders why I did not turn and take the Grand Master first. He knows that if I had, Hanaga would be alive today and it would be he who was dead.

“I could not refuse the order of my master to assassinate your brother. It was a contract, and it was binding. To strike such blood required the highest of our own order, not a lowly initiate or brother. Only a master should slay one of the royal line, and then only by the blade.”

It was such a ridiculous lie, and yet he could see that Yasim almost believed him.

“Why my family tolerates you, Hazin, has been an open question of late. Many say that your order should be destroyed while there is still time.”

“Would Your Highness desire such?”

Yasim looked over at him warily.

“There are fifty million of our race in your empire,” Hazin announced dryly. “Another twenty million or more human slaves. Did you ever wonder how many of them might be of the Order?”

“It is a question of regular debate,” Yasim replied. Hazin smiled. “I can assure you that if you struck tonight, if all the other cults joined you, if you could keep it a secret and fall upon all our temples in one blinding flash, still thousands would survive, and you know what they would do.”

“Are you threatening me?” Yasim asked quietly, looking over the rim of his goblet as he took another sip of his drink.

“Is it not the other way around, Your Highness?” Hazin replied coolly.

Yasim turned away. “What of this encounter that was reported to me?”

“Which encounter, Your Highness? There have been so many these last few days.”

“This ship you destroyed while fleeing the battle.”

Hazin laughed. “Majesty, I did not flee. When your brother met his gallant demise in the explosion that destroyed his flagship,” and he smiled, “I was blown overboard and rescued by a frigate. The ship I was on flew the colors of the Blue Banner. To linger while your fleet closed would have been foolish bravado.” To reply with the official story regarding Hanaga’s death amused him and clearly frustrated Yasim.

“Foolish bravado, Hazin. Something you were never noted for.”

“Those with bravado rarely live. Let my initiates show such traits. It is expected of them, not of me.”

“You avoid the question, though. Tell me of the human ship. They were of these rebellious humans, the envoy to the Bantag reports.”

“Who told you?”

Now it was Yasim’s turn to laugh.

So someone within his ranks was in the pay of the emperor. Why would he tell me? Why would he betray one of his own? Was it an offering of some kind?

“Actually, the ship was inconsequential,” Hazin stated, turning the goblet in his hand so that the gems caught the lamplight and flickered.

“Oh, really? I would not call a force that destroyed three of the northern Hordes to be inconsequential.”

“The ship is what I was referring to, not what it represents.”

“The ship, then.”

“It was primitive, what little we could see of it in the dark. Heavily reliant on sail, though it was under steam when we met it.”