Simon Hawke - The Outcast

“Let me understand,” said Rikus. “The templars are actually proposing that the Veiled Alliance, an organization they have sought to destroy for all these years, be given a role in restructuring Tyr?” He shook his head. “I cannot believe it. I must be hearing things.”

“The templars sought to destroy the Veiled Alliance in the past because Kalak ordered it. He saw the organization as a threat to him, and we templars acted as the loyal servants of our king. However, Kalak is dead. Our loyalty now lies with the new government of Tyr.”

“Whichever way the wind blows, eh?” said Rikus.

“It is a government that may not love us well,” said Timor with an arch glance at the former gladiator, “but it has seen fit to include us, however inconvenient it might seem, largely because to dispense with us would have proved an even greater inconvenience. Just the same, we are grateful for the role we are allowed to play in the future of the city that has always been our home.”

“You expect us to believe you bear no malice toward the Veiled Alliance?” asked Sadira.

“I bear no malice toward anyone,” said Timor. “I am a templar, and I seek only to do my duty. In that capacity, I cannot support the existence of any underground organization—however well-intentioned it may claim to be—that functions independently and violently in disregard of our laws. I have always been convinced that the Veiled Alliance is, at heart, a subversive group of malcontents who shelter criminals under the guise of patriotism and high moral imperatives. They would disagree, of course.

“However, in the interest of reducing lawlessness within our city and making its citizenry more productive, I am willing to give them the benefit of the doubt. Kalak is dead, and the reason for their secretive existence in our city no longer exists. Let them prove their stated intent and come forward to take part in helping this government build our city’s future. Let them prove to our people that magic can be used as a force for good, and thus gain their support. In return, I propose we offer amnesty to all those who take advantage of this offer.”

“And you think they will come forward?” said Sadira skeptically.

“Those who truly believe in what the Veiled Alliance claims to stand for should have no reason to reject such an offer. Still, I expect some of them to refuse. Those who are and have always been criminally inclined shall not come forward, and in refusing to do so, they shall expose themselves for what they truly are. But at least those among them who are well intentioned will have an opportunity to come out of hiding and take part in our society.”

“I move that we adopt Timor’s proposals,” said Councilman Kor.

“I second the motion,” said Councilman Hagon, at once.

“Not so fast,” said Rikus.

“The motion has already been seconded,” said Councilman Kor. “The templars were accused of not contributing any constructive proposals. Well, it seems that they have called our bluff and produced some excellent ones. Procedure now dictates that we put these proposals to a vote.”

“That is the accepted procedure,” Sadira was forced to admit. “All those in favor?”

There was a show of hands. Only Rikus did not raise his.

“The motion is carried,” said Sadira, who had abstained. As director of the council, she would have only voted in the event of a tie. “The council secretary is directed to formulate the proposals as new edicts, which will be presented to this body for approval of the wording prior to being instituted. And now, if there is—”

The council chamberlain rapped his staff on the floor by the entrance to the room. “With the indulgence of the council,” he said, “a captain of the city guard has arrived with a visitor who claims to have business with the council.”

Sadira frowned. “I am aware of no one who has petitioned to speak before this body today. Who is this visitor?”

“He has given his name as Sorak,” said the chamberlain.

“I know no one by that name,” Sadira said. She glanced at the other members of the council. “Do any of you know this Sorak?”

The other members all shook their heads and glanced around at one another.

“What is the nature of his business?” asked Sadira.

“He did not say,” the chamberlain replied, “only that it was most urgent and that it concerned a matter of utmost importance to the security of the government of Tyr.”

“No doubt merely another malcontent seeking to air his grievances,” said Councilman Hagon. “Must we waste our time with this?”

“This body exists to serve the people, not deny them a voice in our government,” Sadira said.

“Then let him petition to be heard during the proper time, when we conduct the regular forum,” said another council member.

“If, indeed, he has news that may affect the security of Tyr, then we should hear him,” Rikus said. “I say let him speak.”

“Have this visitor brought in, Chamberlain,” Sadira said.

“There is... something else,” the chamberlain replied uneasily.

“Well?” Sadira said. “What is it?”

“He has a tigone with him, and insists that it accompany him.”

“A tigone!” Rikus said, rising to his feet.

“The creature appears tame,” the chamberlain said. “However, it is, nevertheless, a full-grown tigone.”

“A tame tigone?” said Sadira. “This is something I would like to see.”

“Surely you are not going to allow this!” said Councilman Hagon.

“Have the visitor brought in,” Sadira said.

Despite the reassuring presence of the heavily armed soldiers, Sadira, Rikus, and Timor were the only ones who did not react with alarm when Sorak entered the small council chamber with Tigra at his side. Sadira had her magic to protect her, Rikus had faced tigones in the arena, and while he remained tensely alert, he saw that the beast’s behavior was not aggressive. As for Timor, the senior templar did not scare easily.

He was a crafty survivor who had faced the hatred of the people under Kalak and the wrath of the mercurial late tyrant and had floated in that maelstrom without once losing his composure. He had weathered the storm of revolution and managed to secure a continuing strong role for the templars in the new government, while at the same time presiding over a subtle campaign designed to bring about change in attitude toward the templars among the people of Tyr. Where once the templars were reviled as oppressors in the service of the tyrant, now they were at least tolerated, and Timor’s clever word-of-mouth campaign about templars as victims of Kalak, more so than any other citizens, was starting to take hold.

The templars, it was now said, were born into a legacy of service to the sorcerer-king and had never been given any choice in directing their own fate. They had no magic of their own—that much, at least, was true—and what powers they had wielded came to them through Kalak. As such, they were ensorcelled, trapped in a life of bondage to the tyrant as effectively as were the slaves who toiled in the brickyards. And, like the slaves, the death of Kalak finally freed them.

Unlike the slaves, however, the templars labored under the burden of the guilt they shared, and so they sought to redeem themselves in service to the new government. The fact that they pursued this redemption while living in their own, luxurious, secluded compound, walled away from the common citizens of Tyr, was something that was never mentioned. Also never mentioned, and unknown by anyone except a handful of Timor’s closest and most trusted associates, was the fact that the senior templar was a secret defiler who schemed to topple the revolutionary government and seize power for the templars, with himself as the new king.