William King - Shadowblood

The chamber was luxuriously furnished, and a number of books lined the shelves. A small table stood between two high backed chairs. On it were two glasses and a bottle of wine.

“Be seated,” said Joran pleasantly. Rik was immediately on guard. The High Inquisitor waved his henchmen away, leaving them alone in the room. Rik glanced around, wondering about hidden listeners, and guards. He did not doubt that there would be some. He sat down and once he had done so, the Inquisitor did the same.

Rik studied Joran. The Inquisitor was handsome in the lean, narrow-jawed manner of the Terrarchs. His eyes were very dark, his ears lobeless and finely pointed. His silver hair was cropped short in a manner that was not fashionable. His features were very pale, which Rik assumed came from constantly wearing his mask.

“I have heard a lot about you,” said Joran. His voice was pleasant, his manner agreeable. At this moment, it was hard to imagine someone who sounded less like an Inquisitor, which made Rik even more tense. Joran noticed.

“Relax. We are not ogres. I am not going to put you to the Test of Iron and Fire.”

“I am very glad to hear it,” said Rik, not wanting to say anything, but finding that there was something about the Inquisitor’s manner that made him want to babble. He took a deep breath and calmed himself. This too did not go unnoticed.

“Your patron is very powerful, and she has petitioned the Queen to have you adopted into her House. I am here to ascertain whether you are worthy of such an honour.”

Rik very seriously doubted that this was the only reason why Joran was talking to him, but it hardly seemed diplomatic to point this out.

“I appreciate you coming all this way,” he said, unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice. Joran chose to ignore it.

“It is very unusual for a half-breed to be adopted into the ranks of one of our oldest clans. In fact, I cannot think of a single example of it. The adoption laws were meant for full-blooded Terrarchs. The Lady Asea must think very highly of you.”

“I’m afraid you will have to ask her about that.” There was something lulling about the Inquisitor’s gentle tones. Rik found himself echoing his manner. Was there some sorcery at work here, or some narcotic incense in the air? If there was he could not identify it, and this did not seem like the time for cleansing ritual sorcery.

“I have and she does.”

“I am grateful for her kind words.”

“As is only proper. Her attention is a great honour. She is one of the First, and one of the greatest of all Terrarchs. I have long been an admirer of hers.”

I’ll bet you have, thought Rik. Sincere as Joran sounded, Rik did not believe him for a second. He could not help but see the Inquisitor as an enemy, and that made him doubt anything Joran said.

“Have you any idea of your parentage?” Joran asked.

“None,” said Rik. “I was brought up in Temple Orphanage in Sorrow.”

“From which you vanished aged about eight or nine years old.”

So he knew about that. Rik felt the jaws of the trap beginning to close. “I left.”

“You left?” There was a certain amount of amusement in Joran’s voice. “You simply walked out.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I was not happy there.”

“What made you unhappy?”

Rik shrugged. “Discipline. I did not like being made to learn to read and write. I did not like the masters, or the work they made us do.” It was hard to keep the bitterness from his voice even now.

“A great many people would have been grateful for such an education. You were being taught an uncommon skill, one that would have fitted you for gainful employment.”

“Alas I did not appreciate that at the time. And by the time I had found out how hard life was on the streets, I could not go back. I knew they would not take me.”

Joran appeared sympathetic. “How then did you survive?”

“Begging, and scavenging.”

“Until you went for a soldier.”

“Yes.”

“You joined the Seventh when you were fifteen. That means you must have spent a considerable time on the streets.”

“Yes.”

“Many would not have survived that.”

“I was lucky.”

“You certainly seem to be, to have made your way from the streets of Sorrow, to the corridors of this Palace. I don’t think anyone could deny you are very lucky.”

“I am aware of it.”

“Your military record was not so distinguished, at least to begin with. I notice you were flogged, at the order of Lieutenant Sardec.”

“You have obviously read my record. I’m afraid it shows I was never good at taking discipline.”

“Yes, it does. At the same time, I can see that you were commended for bravery on a number of occasions, and were selected for the Foragers from the line company. That shows your commanders must have thought you a superior soldier.”

What it really showed was that Weasel and the Quartermaster considered him a superior thief, and had a use for his talents. They had seen to it he was transferred. If the Inquisitor did not know that, Rik was not going to tell him. “Again, you would have to ask them.”

“I already have. They agree. And you have since distinguished yourself in a number of ways.”

“I have done my best to serve the Queen.”

“Tell me about Achenar.”

Rik told him about the buried city of the ancients, and the Spider-Demons that inhabited it. He found himself shivering as he recollected the dank depths and the sinister things that scuttled there. He told him about the summoning of Uran Ultar and the way Sardec lost his hand, and how he himself had shot the Prophet Zarahel. Joran was a good listener. He concentrated on Rik’s words most flatteringly, and when he finished said, “So far your every word accords with what others have told me.” There was a slight note of insinuation in his voice.

Before he could stop himself Rik said, “And why not? It’s the truth.”

“I never said differently. I find the whole thing fascinating. So it was your deeds in Achenar that brought you to the Lady Asea’s attention.”

“I believe so. I had never met her before then.”

“Indeed. And she certainly chose to place great trust in you. I mean she selected you to infiltrate the Serpent Tower and rescue Queen Kathea.”

“I volunteered,” said Rik, a little too quickly for his own liking. It was a lie too. Asea had given him no choice in the matter.

“Why did she do that?” There was a cat-like quality to the Inquisitor’s manner now, as if he were coming to the part that really interested him, and where he expected Rik to trip himself up.

“Someone had to do it.”

“And she chose you. To sneak into one of the best protected fortresses in the world, wrapped round with charms woven by an ancient race, and bound to the service of one of the greatest Terrarch wizards. That was quite a feat.”

“She provided me with counter-magic.”

“And we both know that Lady Asea is the greatest of all Terrarch sorcerers.” There was a note of sardonic mockery in Joran’s voice now, as if he knew something that Rik did not, and was simply waiting for the contradictions to emerge.

He knows nothing, Rik told himself. He’s simply insinuating things and hoping you’ll make a mistake.

“I am in no position to judge that.”

“She has been teaching you magic. She told me that.” Rik shrugged, not wanting to say anything incriminating. He was really starting to dislike this one-sided game, where all the cards were stacked in Joran’s favour. Joran made a deprecating gesture with his right hand and said, “If you are a Terrarch that would not be a crime.”

“And we are here to decide whether I am a Terrarch, are we not?”