Randolph shifted his shoulders to feel for the sling. It was still there, but was most definitely lighter than the load he’d carried all the way across the continent. Before he could worry about having possibly lost his trophy during his journey through the treetops, he spotted the withered black wing being dragged by three snakes.
The snakes carried it over to Icanchu and raised it so he could sniff without bringing his nose too close to the ground. A brow arched as he said, “I hope this wasn’t intended as a threat. Besting the trickster in a fight is impressive, but not enough to warrant whatever special favor you surely want to ask of me.”
“Not a threat,” Randolph said. “Merely an offering to show that I am worthy of an audience.”
“Spare me the formalities, Full Blood. I have heard of you. I have seen you. I know the only thing you respect is the Balance.”
“Y . . . yes.”
“You’re surprised I know this?”
“You can’t hear everything I say,” Randolph said. “There is no way for you to be everywhere at once.”
“Not everywhere, but I can see more than you know.” Icanchu’s mouth closed tightly and his eyes continued to churn.
“I already told you,” Jaden said. “The Mist Born haven’t gone anywhere. There are more than the ones you have seen.”
Although Randolph had almost forgotten about his guide, glancing over at her was enough to bring all of his more recent memories to the front of his mind. She smirked at him as if she could hear the wheels turning inside of him. “So,” he said to the serpent lord that loomed over them, “you talk to each other.”
Jaden nodded and settled into a seated position.
“I know I am correct in what I said,” Icanchu told him. “That’s all you need to know. I can smell the trickster on you, which means you’ve spoken to Kawosa before coming to me. The last I saw of him, he was living as a coyote and selling his lies to the natives of the northern continent.”
“The Skinners captured him and were holding him captive.”
Icanchu’s eyes narrowed in blatant disapproval.
Randolph continued at his own pace. “He was simply contained. It was only a matter of time before one of the Skinners either put Kawosa to use or allowed him to escape.”
“Instead of that,” Icanchu said, “you decided to free him yourself. Perhaps to garner his favor?”
Randolph didn’t confirm or deny that, but his silence was more than enough to put a fraction of a grin on the Mist Born’s face.
“Kawosa does what he pleases,” Icanchu warned. “No matter what he told you.”
“He told me where I might find you.”
Icanchu’s mighty head swung toward Jaden. Several of the snakes that had arisen from the earth also looked in her direction. It wasn’t until then that Randolph could see the serpent bodies wrapped around her ankles and sliding beneath her fur. Suddenly, he couldn’t tell if she was sitting down or being held fast by fingers springing from the ground itself. Icanchu’s face was as tough to read as the expression worn by an oak tree. Randolph couldn’t help but wonder what terrible promises Icanchu would have fulfilled if he thought she’d been the one to betray his hiding spot within the Amazonian jungle.
“So,” Icanchu said, “why go through so much trouble to find me? Surely you don’t think you have anything to gain from attacking me as you did the trickster.”
“What I asked of Kawosa was payment for his freedom, and he would not comply.”
“Liars are often difficult to bargain with.”
“I am not. My terms are simple and I uphold whatever word I give.”
Icanchu’s body lifted his head high enough for it to hang down from the leafy ceiling and gaze down at the Full Bloods as if they were bugs in a terrarium. “Terms? Terms? You come to my home and offer me terms? For your sake, I hope the act of spilling Mist Born blood hasn’t given you a swollen head. Kawosa is not a fighter, but even he has not been defeated by one of the mighty shapeshifter immortals. The trickster’s biggest fault has always been his soft heart. He likes to deal. Entire human civilizations have disappeared when they spoke out of turn to any of the rest of my kind. And as for your word, the wind passing from a frog’s backside means more to me!”
Throughout this entire tirade, Randolph stood tall. Even though he was forced to stare several stories up at Icanchu, he never turned away from the eyes set within the Mist Born’s ridged face.
Shifting his glare toward Jaden, Icanchu asked, “What insanity has infected your mind for you to bring this one here?”
“Don’t speak to her,” Randolph said. “Speak to me!”
For the next few moments Icanchu was speechless. He looked down at the Full Blood, unsure whether he wanted to show him more respect or strike him down where he stood. Even in eyes as muddled and alien as his, the conflict was clear to Randolph. Finally, Icanchu asked, “What is it you want?”
“I need access to the flow of the Torva’ox.”
“If you wanted your share, you should have taken your place at the last Breaking Moon.”
“I’m not talking about the trickle given to the others or even the more lingering taste given to those who broke the long-held traditions by gathering near a source.”
“You want a taste of the purest waters,” Icanchu said.
“Yes.”
“No creature has drunk from that well since your forefather cut his swath of blood across the mortal world.”
“Gorren was overambitious,” Randolph said. “And he wanted to dominate the lesser creatures.”
“What would you do with the power that comes from the raw Torva’ox?”
“That’s not your concern.”
Icanchu didn’t like that. The scowl that formed on his face turned him into a vast, unknowable horror from the deepest recesses of a fever dream. His thick body brought his head closer to Randolph’s level while retreating so far back into the jungle that even a Full Blood’s ears couldn’t track where the rustling ended. “Then you can go back where you came from, little dog. You’re not the first to approach me with big demands. There is no other being on this earth apart from me that can bend the flow of the Torva’ox, and no other that is more qualified to guard it.”
“I want to take a small piece so I can make a change to this world that will set things right again.”
“For your precious Balance?”
“Yes.”
Icanchu expelled a short, huffing breath. “What sort of change could I possibly be concerned about?”
“One that eradicates those who would drink from the Torva’ox without caring about tainting the flow. Only the strongest would remain,” Randolph explained. “No more cheating or lying to acquire territory. No more machines providing strength to humans that are barely able to defend themselves without them. No more wretches fighting on Full Bloods’ behalf. Things go back to how they were meant to be.”
“The only way to make a genuine change,” Icanchu pointed out, “would be to eradicate Full Bloods. Nothing draws from the Torva’ox more than your kind.”
“Only those who were power hungry enough to turn the last Breaking Moon into a farce. The Torva’ox flows to them in a stronger current, while some of us have chosen to only take what we need to live. Surely you can see that just by looking at me. Whatever is put into the flow will go to the power-mad like Esteban first, and to the rest of the shapeshifters next. Those of us who have hardened ourselves enough to live without such an advantage will be able to weather any storm.”
“And what of the humans? Even if they don’t use it, they draw from the Torva’ox as well.”
“I know that. So do the Full Bloods who strive for more than their share. That is why they’ve spent the days following the Breaking Moon wiping the humans out. The fewer of them there are, the fewer trickles will be taken from the Torva’ox. They are to be slaughtered, and many thousands have already fallen or been turned into wretches. Fortunately, this is after they have played their part in creating the tools I need to harness the single element the other Full Bloods have been lacking. Even tolerating the presence of the leeches will prove to be worthwhile once I cannot only collect more than my share of the Torva’ox, but focus it well enough to require one drink from the purest source to make me more powerful than Gorren himself.”