Peter Newman - The Ruthless

Each figure carried a crystal-tipped wand that glowed, providing the only light in the room. Odd bulges moved within their robes, as if stunted limbs grew from their middles. Masked faces watched her, each one divided down the middle, black on the right, white on the left. One of them, she could not be sure which, spoke: ‘One woman is welcome here. Are you that woman?’

Pari worked her mouth as her brain snapped fully awake and put all of the pieces together. It isn’t just a question, no, it’s a test. This is a rebirthing ceremony. My rebirthing ceremony. And not my first – I’ve been here before. Many times. She could feel certainty rising within her and with it, knowledge.

I am Deathless.

The thought rang in her mind, powerful and true. She had died many times but had always come back. So long as her blood remained in the world, be it a son, daughter, grandchild or someone who sprouted from that line; her soul would have a new home to go to.

I am Deathless.

An image came to her of a castle – her castle – floating high above the forests and rivers of the Wild. And within the castle, faces; of her hunters and servants, guards and Story-singers, Cutter-crafters and attendants. Not just one set but legions of them, getting older, being replaced.

She had ruled over them for generations. The sky-born who shared her castle, and the road-born below, scattered in scores of settlements, all hugging the Godroad, all facing the Wild.

I am a Deathless of House Tanzanite. And she knew that there were others in the house, all with their own castles and peoples and sprawling bloodlines. And she knew that House Tanzanite was one of seven, and that they were all united in a duty to hunt the demons of the Wild and stand guard over humanity . But that did not mean they got on, nor agreed on all things. Pari grimaced as she recalled just how true that was.

The robed people surrounding her were the Bringers of Endless Order. They had pulled her soul from wherever it had gone between lives and put it into a new body. Now they were testing to see if they had been successful. Whether they had truly hooked a human soul or had brought something else into the world.

She flexed her fingers and toes to see if she had a full complement, and that they would move to her will. To her relief, the digits obeyed. Sometimes a vessel sustained injuries, and sometimes the rebirth was not a complete success. Pari had heard stories of Deathless that only had partial control of their bodies, where the soul was misaligned, allowing a demon to slip into the cracks, gaining power over a hand, an elbow, or worse, the jaw.

The Bringers watched her closely. It occurred to her that she still hadn’t answered their question.

‘I am Lady,’ she began, then stopped. The voice that issued from her throat was unfamiliar. High, girlish.

Seven masked faces leaned closer at her hesitation, no doubt searching for signs of possession. If she made a mistake, innocent or otherwise, they would assume the worst, declare her abomination, and end her.

She cleared her throat. ‘I am Lady Pari Tanzanite.’

‘Lady Pari Tanzanite is welcome,’ replied one of the Bringers. ‘If you are she.’

‘If,’ hissed the others.

‘If you are she,’ continued the first Bringer, ‘you will prove your humanity. Look at yourself and tell us what you are.’

Her body was more petite than her usual preferences, however there was some tone to the muscles, suggesting a reasonable level of fitness. Golden tattoos glittered against her sky-born skin, one for each significant death she had experienced. The nature of the tattoos and their frequency were decided by the High Lord of House Tanzanite at the end of Pari’s lifecycles. This was unfortunate as Pari’s relationship with High Lord Tanzanite was cordial at best.

She did not need to look to know that there was gold ink on her shoulder, just as she knew there were gold spots on the pads of her fingers and a single mark on her lower lip. She looked anyway. It was not above the Bringers to place false marks to confuse, or her High Lord to have added a new one to make a statement about Pari’s previous life.

But there was nothing obvious. If there were any new tattoos, they were tucked somewhere out of sight.

‘I feel the marks on my fingers and remember my first life, where I had touched a lie and refused to let it go, even though it burned me.’

The Bringers did not react, watching her with a searing intensity.

‘I see the mark on my shoulder and remember my fourth life –’ she frowned ‘– and the poor fortune that ended it.’

Again, the Bringers remained quiet, though she suspected they had shared some look at her expense.

‘I feel the mark on my lip and remember my fifth life, and the power of an expressive face.’ Which was a polite way of saying that when she needed to, she could pout people to death. It was still up for debate whether High Lord Tanzanite thought this was a good thing.

‘What is the name of your high lord?’ asked one of the Bringers.

‘What is the name of your Deathless brother?’ asked another.

‘Priyamvada is the name of my High Lord. My Deathless brother is Arkav.’

In her first life she’d had another brother who had lived a normal, single life. To her horror she found his name evaded her.

‘What is wrong with him?’ asked the Bringers together.

Pari’s full body shiver was constrained by the straps. ‘Pardon?’

Only a single Bringer repeated the question: ‘What is wrong with him?’

She sighed to herself. Here is the test.

Arkav had not been himself for several lifecycles now. Her once flamboyant, confident sibling had become prone to dark moods and bouts of misery. More than once, he had cut himself. She had done her best to hide the full extent of this, as had her house, but the Bringers had secret ways. They knew things. It was more than possible they had discovered her secrets.

It was also possible that this was a trick question, designed to get her to bluff. There was no way to know for sure.

A third possibility occurred to her. At a rebirth ceremony, the only ones allowed inside were the vessel, the Bringers of Endless Order, and the Crystal High Lord of the Deathless being reborn; in this case Priyamvada Tanzanite. The last she had heard, her brother had been taken into the High Lord’s care. Perhaps the question about Arkav was being asked for the High Lord’s benefit. Perhaps Priyamvada was lurking behind one of the many pillars, observing.

It did not matter. If Pari failed the test, her brother was doomed. And besides, Pari had grown rather fond of herself over her lives. ‘Nothing is wrong with Arkav,’ she replied, enjoying the way the Bringers leant back in surprise before adding: ‘that I cannot fix.’

There was a pause and then the Bringers stepped forward as one, the gemslight from their wands dazzling. She tensed in preparation, even though there was nothing she could do to defend herself. When they stepped away, the straps had gone from her chest and limbs.

‘Lady Pari Tanzanite is welcome,’ said a Bringer.

‘Welcome,’ echoed the others.

One by one, they left, pausing to nod to her as they did so. She caught a glimpse of peridot eyes within one of the masks, too bright, and was sure she knew them. It was assumed that the Bringers never left their sanctum, save to perform rituals, but masked as they were, no one knew their identities, they could walk freely across the land and never be recognized. They could have lived among the Deathless in secret all these years and no one would know.

Pari had never liked the Bringers. They held too much power for her liking. Their incredibly sinister appearance doesn’t help either. Just what are they hiding under those robes? She suspected the answer would be unpleasant, but that only piqued her curiosity.