There had been so many lives saved, but so many more lost. Chanoch and Vedoran-those comrades were gone now-one to the shadows, the other dead by Ashok’s hand.
Ashok went through the portal without speaking to anyone. When he came out into the Shadowdark, the nightmare’s scream finally ceased. Ashok stood for a moment in the silence and waited for the memories and the smell of blood to fade. His own wound distracted him, and Ashok knew he would have to seek healing at Tower Makthar before he could present himself to Uwan.
He passed through the gate, which was open to admit what was left of the caravan. His eyes sought Neimal up on the wall, but when he found her, Ashok was surprised to see not one witch but two-Ilvani stood talking with Neimal near the gate.
He tried to catch her eye, but she was absorbed in conversation with Neimal. She’d been like a ghost these past few months-he’d never seen her except from a distance, as now, and she hadn’t sought him out.
Just as well. Ilvani had her own nightmares to haunt her, more painful and terrifying than Ashok’s beast. His presence would only remind her of them.
Ashok risked another glance up at the two witches. By chance, Ilvani’s attention wandered, and she turned and caught Ashok’s gaze.
Seeing her face, Ashok felt a displacement, as if he’d gone back in time. The city spiraled away, and he was seeing Ilvani for the first time, eyes burning out of deep skull sockets, a broken body in a cage. He remembered that look on her face, the same look she wore now. Something was terribly wrong.
“Ilvani,” he called out to her, but she was already backing away from Neimal, retreating. She moved down the wall and abruptly teleported to the ground. Ashok caught up with her while her body was still transparent, a spirit drifting between the burned-out houses near the wall. He reached for her arm, but his hand passed through her.
She jerked away from him as if he had touched her. “You’re not supposed to be here,” she snapped. Shadows swirled around her body. “You look when you’re not supposed to look-that’s how your eyes get burned.”
“I’m sorry.” Ashok forced himself to slow, to keep his distance from her. He’d forgotten that talking to Ilvani was often like groping for a candle in a dark room. He was always running into walls. “I want to know what’s wrong. Can’t you tell me?”
“Can’t I tell you? Can’t I lift you down?” She covered her ears with her hands. “If everyone would stop talking all at the same time, you might hear everything.”
The shadows faded as her body took on substance. Ashok noticed deep circles under her black eyes. Though she wore a light nightdress beneath her cloak, she looked as if she hadn’t slept in a tenday. Blood stained her palms, and thick dust streaked her clothes and hair. The implications of her appearance hit Ashok like a fist.
“Gods, Ilvani, were you out on the plain just now?” he demanded. “In the storm?”
She laughed bitterly. “Now you sound like Uwan. ‘Little raven, don’t wander away.’ ‘Little snow rabbit, you might get hurt.’ ”
“I want to help you.”
Her face softened a bit. “You can’t help everyone,” she said. She gestured to his bleeding leg. “You should look after yourself.”
She walked away from him then, and Ashok knew better than to follow her.
CHAPTER TWO
After he’d visited Tower Makthar to accept healing from the clerics of Tempus, Ashok walked beneath the bridges spanning Pyton and Hevalor. In quick strides, he entered the fenced training yard of Tower Athanon. He nodded to Jamet, one of the warrior trainers, who stood before a large group of shadar-kai-the latest batch of recruits to enter Ikemmu’s military.
Not long ago, Uwan permitted only servants of Tempus to serve the city in this way, but in the last year all that changed. Now there were warriors whose patrons were Tempus, Beshaba, and Loviatar, among others. Ashok noticed that many of the new recruits displayed the markings of their gods openly, either as symbols worn around their necks or tattoos on their arms and faces. A mark of pride, to be sure, but that wasn’t the only reason they wore the symbols in such a way.
They don’t believe things have truly changed, Ashok thought. They’re testing the new order, daring the followers of Tempus to challenge them. As if to confirm this, several of the shadar-kai turned to whisper to one another and shot Ashok cold glances as he walked past.
Ashok met their stares with a neutral expression, but inwardly he cringed. To Ikemmu he was still Tempus’s chosen, a mantle given to him by Uwan, who believed Ashok was a favorite of the war god. Uwan’s blind faith had divided Ikemmu and had almost torn the city apart. A tenuous peace had been restored, but Ashok was still esteemed by half the city-and hated by the other half.
“There walks the emissary of Tempus,” one of the recruits said. “Don’t stand too close to him, or he’ll make you the war god’s whore too.”
Ashok stopped, then turned slowly to face the gathered shadar-kai. He didn’t know who had spoken, but his hand went to his chain. The urge to strike out was almost too strong. He stared at the recruits, silently daring them to come closer and repeat the taunt. The recruits noticed the change in the air. Some of them surged forward, eager to take on Ashok.
“That’s enough,” Jamet yelled from across the yard. “All of you are mine. If you want to be Guardians, you’ll keep your tongues quiet and prove to me you deserve to stand in this training yard!”
The recruits reluctantly turned their attention to Jamet. Ashok lingered a moment longer in the yard, then he entered the tower. When he was out of sight of the recruits, some of Ashok’s tension eased. He climbed the winding tower stairs to the topmost level and knocked on the door to Uwan’s chamber.
“Come in,” came Uwan’s voice.
Uwan, Skagi, and Cree stood near the long table where Uwan usually met with his Sworn, his closest military advisers. The leader of Ikemmu was not as large or as menacing as Tuva in his shadowmail armor, but he moved with grace and had a bearing of utter calm about him that was rare among the wild shadar-kai. Standing next to him, still faintly affected by battle lust, Skagi and Cree were like dust-covered fiends. Ashok knew he must look the same.
The brothers nodded to him. Their expressions betrayed nothing of the earlier disagreement.
“Ah, Ashok. How’s your leg?” Uwan asked. He saw for himself the healed wound and nodded. “Thank Tempus you’re all right. I’m told Tuva, Vlahna, and the other survivors will recover as well.”
Ashok nodded, but he said nothing. He was grateful for the healing, but after the scene in the training yard, he wasn’t eager to speak of the warrior god.
“Skagi and Cree report that the caravan suffered heavy losses just outside the portal, but they can’t be certain how many were lost in the storm and how many were killed by the shadow beasts that got loose. Is that your assessment as well?”
“Yes,” Ashok said, “but nothing about this slaughter makes sense. I’ve worked with enough of these beasts to know that once they escaped their cages, they should have tried to flee the storm, not stayed in the thick of it to hunt down the caravan crew. Those panthers were mad-they were hunting their own deaths.”
“Found ’em, too,” Skagi murmured, and Cree smiled faintly.
Uwan shook his head. “Not good enough,” he said. “We lost an experienced Camborr and almost an entire caravan when it was nearly home.” He looked at the three of them. “Find out why. Talk to the survivors tomorrow once they’ve recovered and see if they noticed anything strange about the beasts when they captured them. Report to me at the Trimmer bell. That’s all.”
The abrupt dismissal was unlike Uwan. Ashok exchanged a look with Skagi and Cree. The brothers seemed equally taken off guard. They turned to go, but Ashok hesitated at the door.