I served you faithfully for nine hundred years, he thought to it. As if it could hear him. As if it cared what he thought. And but for one moment of carelessness, I have never failed you. But he knew even that wasn’t true, that in his travels with Vryce he had more than once pushed the envelope of the Unnamed’s tolerance. God willing, when this all was over he would have a chance to establish himself anew and cleanse the taint of Vryce’s human spirit from his soul.
Finally he dropped to the tower and regained his human form, coldfire licking at his flesh as he transformed. The Prince of Jahanna, come home to claim his own.
As soon as he had human eyes with which to see, Amoril bowed deeply to him. “My lord.” He evinced no surprise at Tarrant’s return, which was as it should be. The man who had been assigned to watch over the Forest had damned well better Divine well enough and often enough to foresee that his Master was coming home.
“Is all well?” he asked shortly.
The albino nodded. “There was some trouble out by Mordreth last month—some of the prospectors decided that if they cleared a bit of the Forest their work would be easier-but we settled all that.”
“You made a warning of them, I hope.”
“I left them impaled on tree limbs, in such a posture that implied the trees might have more volition than Mordreth gives them credit for.” His eyes sparkled redly. “They’ll think twice before fetching their axes again.”
“Excellent,” he approved. And it was. A taste of normalcy, after so many months of tension.
The albino bowed again. “I had an excellent teacher.”
Together they descended into the lightless depths of the keep itself, where even the moonlight was not allowed to intrude. Though the Forest outside was thriving, the building’s interior had not done quite so well. There was dust in the numarble halls, he noticed, irritated. He thought in addition that there was a faint ammoniac smell, like that of stale urine, wafting toward them from a distant corridor. Had the albino’s wolf charges been given free run of the keep? Perhaps Amoril himself had seen fit to mark the building in the manner of his pets; Tarrant wouldn’t put it past him. He felt rage rise up inside him like a tidal wave, but then drew in a deep breath and forced himself to let it go, unvoiced. For all he knew the smell wasn’t even real, but a sensory illusion meant to foster discord between him and his servants. He wouldn’t let it distract him now. Once Calesta was safely out of the picture there’d be time enough to teach Amoril the fine points of a Cleansing, and to see that he received sufficient practice in its use.
“What about the Forest?” he asked, forcing his thoughts onto other paths. “My latest Workings?”
“There was a problem with that disease you introduced into the scuttler population just before you left.” It seemed to him that the albino was slightly on edge; was he anticipating retribution for his housekeeping failures, or was something more significant at the root of it? “It mutated spontaneously and was beginning to threaten other species. I isolated and destroyed the infected animals, which will hold the disease at bay for a while, but in the long run a more permanent solution will have to be found.”
The Hunter nodded, his eyes never leaving his apprentice. “I’ll design a counterphage for the new mutation. You have samples of the infected flesh?”
There was a door at the end of the corridor they were traversing; the albino pulled it open for him. “Of course, my lord.”
“Such concern over minute biological detail is commendable, Amoril. I’m pleased by your development.”
“One learns a lot when one is left alone, my lord.”
Black halls, dark curtains, a lightless and soothing domain: he drew confidence from it step by step, and from the chill power flowing about his feet. This place was his strength, he thought. His soul. As long as he had the Forest, no man could stand against him.
And no demon either, he thought darkly. Not even a Iezu.
Down through the keep they went, Amoril following his lead in silence, until they reached his library. There, on shelves stacked ten feet high, were accumulated all his notes from the last five hundred years. Would that I had begun this work earlier! He withdrew a volume of demonological data and handed it to
Amoril. Would that I had understood, in the arrogance of my youth, just how much memory can be lost after nine hundred years.
The albino opened the book he had been handed and scanned its contents. “Iezu?” His tone was scornful.
“Calesta. You recall him?”
“Calesta.” As he sought the proper memory, Tarrant worked a subtle Knowing and cast it about him. Had the Iezu tried to corrupt Amoril while he was in the east? There was no point in trying to Know that directly; the demon’s illusions could mask any trace of contact. But a question like this, so casually voiced, so casually answered ... one might unravel that with care and uncover a hint of artifice, a fleeting breath of warning. “He was the one who tricked you, yes? Before you went east.”
“Yes.” Nothing. There was nothing. Despite himself he relaxed a bit. “Go through that volume,” he commanded. “Look for his name, or anything like it. Or any mention of his aspect, which is sadism. As for his intentions ...” He looked at Amoril and relaxed a bit. What had he expected? That the one man who needed him most would betray him?
Take nothing for granted, Hunter—not your lands, not your people, not even your own power. When your very senses can be warped by another, everything must be suspect.
“We’re at war,” he warned the albino. “So be careful. Unless I can find some means of killing a Iezu ... things may get very unpleasant.”
The albino shrugged. “They’re all just demons in the end, right? How hard can it be?”
Oh, my apprentice. How little you understand!
He set three more volumes down, which were likely to contain notes on the Iezu. Considering how many Iezu there were and how long they had been active, it seemed a painfully insufficient collection. He would have given anything for Ciani of Faraday’s notebooks right now; she had specialized in that demonic family, and must have uncovered countless bits of lore in her many years of study. But she was in the rakhlands now, and all her notebooks were ash. Not for the first time, he cursed Senzei Reese for his damnable shortsightedness. Better to shed human blood for sacrifice-even one’s own-than destroy such treasures as that. “My lord?”
He looked up, saw that Amoril had not even opened his book. “What is it?”
“I have a gift for you.” He grinned, displaying sharpened teeth. “A homecoming present, which I prepared when I Divined you coming. If I may be excused to fetch it?”
Distracted by the task at hand, he nodded. Perhaps he should contact the lady Ciani. Not with a Working, of course; the fae-wall which the rakh had erected about their domain would prevent him from using the currents to reach her. But perhaps he and Vryce should consider a trek to that land, or at least to its border. It was a good bet that she had useful knowledge, and she should be willing to help him. After all, she had once been his apprentice....
She’s also a loremaster, and that kind values its neutrality. How strong are her vows, I wonder? Would she help us win our war if she knew that the fate of humanity might hang in the balance? Or would that be all the more reason not to get involved?
The scent of blood reached him just before the scent of fear; startled, he looked up.
It was Amoril, with a woman in tow. The albino grinned. “I thought you might be hungry after your long flight.” He had bound her hands behind her, and held the end of the binding thong like a leash. She strained against it like a wild animal, consumed by the kind of terror no human heart could sustain for long. She knew who he was, then. Good. It would save him the trouble of inspiring fresh fear. Not that he didn’t hunger for such sport-God knows, after eleven months on that damned ship he could use a hunt-but for once he didn’t want to spare the time.