A shadar-kai cleric pulled back the curtain and came into the room. He wore Beshaba’s vestments and had thin black hair and a scar that half-closed his left eye. There were three such clerics that shared the small temple, but the scarred one tended to Vedoran most often when he came. His name was Traedis.
“Greetings, Vedoran,” the cleric said. “Are you in need of Beshaba’s blessing?”
“I have flesh that needs mending,” Vedoran said gruffly. “Beshaba can give her blessing or not, it makes no difference to me.”
The cleric smiled. “You never change, Vedoran,” he said. “I believe the Lady enjoys this trait in you. Please sit down.”
When Vedoran was seated, the cleric probed his wounds. “You were right to come to me,” he said. “These blows are serious. You must be facing a mighty opponent in your training sessions.”
Vedoran scowled. “Ashok is not so mighty,” he answered. “He’s undisciplined. He fights every sparring match as if he’s going to be killed. But his control improves daily.”
“And a good thing for you that it does,” Traedis said. He closed his eyes and murmured a prayer. By the time he had finished speaking, Vedoran’s wounds were healed.
“My thanks,” Vedoran said. He left a handful of coins on the bed as an offering and rose to leave.
“You say this warrior’s name is Ashok?” Traedis asked. “I’ve heard his name around the city. There are whispers that he is The Watching Blade’s pet.”
Vedoran shrugged. “If he is, it’s nothing to me,” he replied.
“Isn’t it?” Traedis said. “From what I’ve heard, Ashok and Vedoran have much in common. They are both great warriors, though neither one worships Tempus.”
Vedoran stared at the cleric. “And what interest could that hold for anyone?” he said.
“Oh, you’d be surprised,” Traedis said, his voice deceptively casual. “I make it a point to know who in this city follows the warrior god, and who chooses not to be swept along by Uwan’s will.”
“I see,” Vedoran said carefully. “But those individuals … their numbers can’t be large, can they? It’s no secret that Uwan’s way is the way to power and prominence in Ikemmu. Most choose to follow his path.”
The cleric shook his head. “There are more of us than you think, Vedoran,” he said. Many believe that Uwan has led the shadar-kai according to his-and Tempus’s-whims for too long. Perhaps you and this Ashok should think about your place in this city and your future.”
Vedoran stood with his hand on the door latch. “You speak persuasively,” he said. “But I have a secure place in Ikemmu. I’m not ready to trade that for the word of one Beshaban cleric.” He opened the door and stepped through.
“Come and see me again, Vedoran, when you have need,” Traedis called after him. Vedoran detected amusement in the cleric’s voice. “That day might come sooner than you think.”
CHAPTER TEN
The following day Ashok spoke to Skagi and Vedoran after their training session ended. Cree and Chanoch were off sparring with some of the other shadar-kai. After those first two tendays, Jamet had widened their pool of fighting partners to give them experience battling different types of weapons and fighting styles.
Skagi grinned when Ashok told them Olra’s conditions for training the nightmare. “As if we’d miss that spectacle,” he said. “Of course I want to be there when the beast plants you in the dirt. I’ll tell the others.” He moved off.
“The Tet bell,” Ashok called after him.
Vedoran hadn’t spoken, though that was no surprise. The shadar-kai rarely spoke in mixed company, Ashok found, unless it was to trade barbs or jests. He regarded Ashok in a considering silence.
“What is it?” Ashok asked, finally growing impatient.
“I must congratulate you,” Vedoran said.
“For what?”
“You are a Camborr now, or soon will be. I didn’t quite believe it before, but there can be no doubt.”
“I was never truly a warrior in training,” Ashok said. “One can’t move up to a rank when he started with none.”
“Even so,” Vedoran said, “Uwan favors you with a great honor.”
“You mean a great honor for a prisoner,” Ashok said.
“More than that,” Vedoran said. “You refuse to wear Tempus’s mark. You reject Ikemmu’s god, yet you’ve earned the city’s favor.”
Though he hadn’t agreed to Ashok’s request, Vedoran started walking in the direction of the Camborr pens and outbuildings. Ashok followed, considering the shadar-kai’s words.
“Does it give you hope?” he asked.
Vedoran glanced at him sidelong. “What do you mean?” he asked.
Ashok chose his words carefully. “Hope that someone of Vedoran’s prowess might hold military rank one day, under the banner of whatever god he chooses,” he said.
“Or no god at all?” Vedoran said.
“Or no god at all,” Ashok replied.
Over their shoulders, the canyon wall cast long shadows. The wind blew cold against Ashok’s face.
“I have worked my sword for the merchant lords these past six years,” Vedoran said. His voice betrayed no emotion, but his black eyes smoldered. “I began with nothing. I had no place but a guard’s standing in front of a store of food crates. But I worked my sword.”
“Now you have the ear of the lord himself,” Ashok said.
“Lord Karthen has rewarded me well for my service,” Vedoran agreed. “But the path I’ve followed, the line behind me, ends at the same place, the same store of food. What is that worth, after all?”
“Everyone in Ikemmu must eat,” Ashok said.
“Yes,” Vedoran said bitterly. “Every animal must take from the trough.”
Ashok thought of Gaina, and his uncomfortable truth of the shadar-kai race. Darnae had said the same thing, though far more diplomatically. Some tasks were not meant for the shadar-kai. What they considered lesser professions were filled by the other races-the dark ones, the humans, the dwarves, and the halflings like Darnae.
Shadar-kai like Skagi, Cree, and Chanoch can nourish their pride on their military service, Ashok thought. What of Vedoran’s pride, no lesser a force and too long diminished by his rank as a Blite?
“You could leave,” Ashok said, “take your services to another enclave. You could go far.”
“I was born here,” Vedoran said. “It’s my city. It belongs to me as much as it belongs to Tempus.”
He looked at Ashok, and the burning was still there, but mingled with it was a curiosity that softened him and made him voice his next words with trepidation.
“I look at you,” Vedoran said, “and see the last place I should look to find hope. Yet I do. Perhaps with you, things will be different.”
They had reached the paddock. The wide field was empty, and Olra was nowhere in sight. Ashok knew she was preparing to bring the nightmare out. The only time they could force a lead on him was when he was in his cage, deep in the caverns, where his deathly screams wouldn’t touch the nearby buildings.
For in the Camborr compound the forge masters also worked, the Guardians who created all Ikemmu’s weapons for its warriors and its trade. There at least, was a craft the shadar-kai could engage in. They worked the dangerous fires, day and night, forging the tools of battle. Ashok had learned to recognize the black smoke that drifted up in a constant plume from the forges. Olra came out of the cavern first, leading the nightmare with his face chained and hooded. Beside her walked a contingent of guards with spears. She nodded at them to spread out along the fence.
“Are you prepared for this?” Vedoran asked, as Olra released the nightmare into the paddock. The beast immediately began to run in ever-widening circles, striking sparks off the rocky ground, stamping his black marks into the cave grass.
“Worried your great hope might get his brains dashed out under a flaming hoof?” Ashok asked in a light tone.
“Why is it so important to you that he be broken?” Vedoran asked. “I’d have thought … you of all the rest would want him to stay as he is.”