He calculated in the second before his right foot landed on the giant’s face. He noted the thick fabric armor covering the bridge of the man’s nose and reconsidered his attack, angling his foot for the neck rather than the head.
Cartilage crunched satisfyingly under his sole. The giant’s roar became a gurgle and then a wheeze as Vedas landed in a crouch beside his head.
Vedas dropped the grapple and rolled clear before the giant could attack again—but he knew even before completing his turn that the man was finished, dead or in great need of medical assistance. Vaguely, Vedas hoped the battle would end soon so the man could get the help he needed. Death was an unfortunate fact of sectarian battling, best for the orders if kept to a minimum.
One must always remember, Abse often reminded the brothers and sisters, we are tolerated only as long as we do not draw too much attention to ourselves.
Besides, Vedas was not without compassion. He hoped the giant’s faith in Adrash lessened his pain. The sentiment conflicted with the views of his order, but this troubled Vedas not at all. He had risen above such trivialities. His faith was unassailable.
Vedas stood at the center of a battle still going strong. Everyone had either paired off against an opponent or moved to assist a weaker brother or sister. Several Black Suits had fallen, but so had a handful of White Suits. Through the thick of fighters, Vedas saw Abse at the gathering’s edge, engaging one of the mages. The other lay at his feet, face disfigured by burns. The staff he had taken from her spun in his hands and struck, spitting magefire.
On the opposite side of the square, Vedas spotted the recruits. He could hardly tell his own from the opponents’, and started to jog in their direction.
Howling, the blurred form of the hellhound came at him as he rounded a fierce melee. Vedas had only half turned when its shoulder slammed into his right hip and lifted him into the air. He spun three times before hitting the ground face first. His limbs whipped into the ground and his suit stiffened to minimize the impacts, but he felt them all the same.
Apparently, Abse had not been successful in taking the hellhound down. The beast had not uttered a sound since the beginning of the battle, and Vedas foolishly assumed it had been incapacitated. Banishing the embarrassment from his mind, he rose.
The dog was headed straight for the recruits.
Vedas ran, knowing he would never get there in time to stop the animal if it intended violence.
What else could it be intending? he asked himself.
He was still twenty paces from the recruits when the hellhound closed its jaws around the girl’s head. She disappeared under the creature’s body, but not before Vedas saw the black sash tied around her left arm.
‡
Abse called Vedas to his chambers after the post-fight toilet. The two sat, separated by a small lacquered table. They ate cold dumplings and mutton and drank hot fahl tea, the reason for the meeting hanging unspoken between them as they chewed and sipped. The abbey master had never been one to rush matters, even when both parties knew the outcome.
Vedas’s hood was gathered at his neck and he had made his generous, wellformed features blank. The smell of vomit and blood had not left his nose. The sequence of Julit Umeda’s death replayed itself before his eyes. From experience, he knew that in time the memory would fade. It would never disappear completely.
The abbey master finally set his cup aside. “I have been mulling over a decision. Oddly, this morning’s event has made it easier to make.” He reached forward and gripped Vedas’s shoulder. “It is not impossible that someone will hold you responsible for the girl’s death. We have been lucky in the past, but we have never lost a Tomen recruit before. I do not want to see you get hurt. Therefore, you must leave the city.”
Vedas nodded, unsurprised. Two months previously, Abse had been given the task of choosing Golna’s representative to Danoor, the decennial tournament between the world’s Black Suit and White Suit orders. For two months, he had pretended to weigh his options. All the while, Vedas had known he would be the one leaving.
Typically, the prospect filled him with anxiety. He had not left Dareth Hlum since passing its borders as a child. He did not relish the prospect of travel with others, spending nights in close quarters. The fighting itself did not worry him—he knew his own strength—but he could not imagine the moments afterward. The congratulations. The tearful thanks. Most of all, he dreaded the speech the winner would be required to give.
The fact of Julit Umeda’s death had temporarily rendered these concerns meaningless.
The master’s smile did not reach his eyes. “I thought I might even go to the tournament, but this works out just as well. Congratulations. You will represent the city of Golna at Danoor on the eve of the half-millennium. It is a great honor, of course.”
Vedas nodded again. The honor was lost on him.
“Vedas.” Abse spoke the word as if it exhausted him. “You could show some appreciation. I take the task of choosing very seriously. There are many worthwhile candidates, and my choice need not come from this abbey. In fact, I would be wise to choose from another order. For political reasons, you see.”
Vedas waited. The man’s chiding tone bothered him, but only slightly. Certainly, Vedas did not let it show. At thirty-four years old, having spent twenty-two years in the abbey, he had long since learned to control his emotions around the abbey master. Their interactions were routine, transparent. They were like father and son. The same waters of love and resentment flowed between them. The same fictions bound them.
“To be exactly truthful,” the master said, as if his thoughts had lingered on the same ground, “I had not seriously considered going myself. Nor had I considered another. It is a hard journey from here to Knos Min, and that is only the beginning of the trial. Golna’s champion must be strong, body and soul.” He gestured with his hands to encompass the whole city. Another shallow smile. “Who else would I choose?”
Vedas met the older man’s eyes. “And the girl’s death is a good excuse. Convenient.”
Abse shook his head. “Its occurrence today makes it easier to rationalize sending you, but I would still prefer it had not happened. It is no minor thing, losing a recruit. A small fortune in bonedust will exchange hands as a consequence—a wage to the child’s parents, a fee for the funeral, and more than likely, a bribe to our local magistrate. We have an excellent record, but no one is above examination.
“Making matters worse, of course, is the child’s lineage. Tomorrow, someone will have to visit her family and assist with the funerary rites according to custom. Of course, there is no guarantee that this will mollify the Tomen community, but to do otherwise is to invite a riot.”
Vedas raised his eyebrows. “Someone?”
“It will not be you. I will assign another person to the task—maybe two or three.”
“I will go.”
Abse sighed. “Do you know, I used to wish you would learn to see the world as your brothers and sisters see it. But I have stopped trying to understand your guilt. I have stopped hoping that you will be anything but what you are. Nonetheless, my acceptance extends only so far. You cannot have everything you desire.”
Vedas regarded Abse, wondering how far he could push the man. He noted the fine lines at the corner of the abbey master’s mouth and eyes, appearing like cracks in porcelain. At times Vedas imagined he could see the sutures of the man’s skull, as if his skin was merely thin veneer over a death mask. The abbey master was an enchanted creature, it was generally agreed, but no one in the order knew just what sort.
For all the mystery, Vedas understood one thing: Abse possessed an odd mind. Even at his warmest, his emotions were never quite believable. Now and then it seemed that a construct stared out from behind his dull eyes, measuring the world in weights and figures instead of souls and personalities. Sectarian battles were mere arguments, a number of triumphs. Deaths were inconveniences, a number of setbacks.