April 10, 2008
Encounter With the Emperor.
Usually, when Maboroshi went still, he faded into the background. This time, though, he seemed to grow more distinct from the shadows – and Heizhan could sense why. Maboroshi was terrified.
Footsteps echoed down the corridor of White Castle, and Maboroshi stiffened. Heizhan casually tucked his hand into his sleeve, brushing his fingers along the hilt of his knife. Anyone who could scare Maboroshi had to be dangerous.
The Emperor of the Shadowlands rounded the corner and stopped, wearing a smile Heizhan once saw on his own face as he butchered a woman in front of her mirror. For long moment after long moment, no one said anything.
Heizhan twitched violently, palming his knife. As the Emperor’s cold indigo eyes slid over to Heizhan, Maboroshi stepped back behind the green-eyed man. One small hand slid something into Heizhan’s pocket; Heizhan could feel the gray man shaking.
Something in Heizhan snapped, and he slashed at the Emperor – who had seen the killing blankness slide over Heizhan’s face and dodged. A gloved hand swung up to grab Heizhan’s wrist -
- And passed right through it. The Emperor turned slowly toward Maboroshi, who was already dragging the stunned Heizhan through the stone wall behind them.
They emerged in a dim storage room. Heizhan, having managed to collect his wits, reached into his pocket and removed a small stone tablet. Incised on it were some symbols he couldn’t read; they shimmered with an almost-light at his touch.
“What is this?” asked the General.
Maboroshi was still shaking. “A variant on a ward. For intangibility rather than repelling. It’s about the only thing I still remember from my bard training.”
Heizhan extended the tablet to Maboroshi, who was staring blankly at the wall they’d just walked through. Heizhan sighed and placed the tablet on a nearby crate. “How many of these do you have?”
“Only the one,” said Maboroshi, still not looking at him.
A niggling suspicion entered Heizhan’s mind. “But you walked through the wall, too.”
Maboroshi seemed to find the wall utterly fascinating. He didn’t reply.
“Maboroshi?”
“You know he ordered me executed as a traitor.”
“Yes.”
Maboroshi closed his eyes, leaning up against another crate. “Who says he failed?”
Heizhan’s breath left him in a rush. After a moment’s fight with his lungs, he managed to say, “But you bleed.”
Maboroshi turned to look at Heizhan for the first time since his uncle had walked down the hallway. “There is more than one kind of ghost, Heizhan.”
The General and the Killer.
The last thing Lia heard before being knocked unconscious was a cheerful “Hello, General” in a sarcastic voice she’d hoped never to hear again.
The first thing Lia saw when she woke up was Heizhan sitting on a pile of rubble, grinning at her. The second thing she noticed was that he wasn’t actually holding a knife this time.
“Couldn’t find a decent kitchen?” Lia asked, raising one eyebrow.
“You’re clearly okay, if you’re making snide comments about my cutlery. I was starting to think I’d hit you too hard.”
“How long did you intend to knock me out for?”
Heizhan shrugged. “Long enough for me to drag you out of that cellar. I got you out in ten minutes, but you’ve been out for two hours.” He eyed her for a moment, then handed her a small bottle. Lia took it gingerly. “It’s pain medicine,” Heizhan said, looking hurt, as Lia sniffed the contents.
Lia eyed him, shrugged, and downed the dose. Her headache vanished, though some dizziness remained. “And which apothecary brewed this up for you?”
“None of them. I made it myself.” Heizhan grinned again at Lia’s look. “Did you think I was always a mad serial killer?”
“Yes.”
“Well, maybe so, but it doesn’t pay the bills. And before you ask, I didn’t poison anyone.”
“Really.”
“Too boring,” the killer commented. Lia grinned.
“Why are you being so helpful?” the General asked after a moment. “They let you out so you’d turn on us, you know.” She watched Heizhan, her gold eyes sharp.
“I know.”
Lia waited. Three, two, one…
“It’s my country, dammit. I’d kill myself before I’d kill on the command of some terrorists.”
There it is, Lia thought. The pride of the Anunnaki.
Out loud, Annwn’s General said, “And on my command?”
Heizhan looked her over, dark eyes serious, then grinned.
The Killer.
Nathan had just enough time to register the presence of another person in the room before a strong hand clamped across his mouth and slammed him into the wall. The point of a boning knife glittered somewhere in the vicinity of his right eye.
No one had ever said Heizhan wasn’t good. In fact, that was the whole problem.
“Ordinarily, I’d torment you with some painfully witty comments, but today I feel like making an exception,” the killer said, adjusting his grip on his knife.
Nathan’s blow connected with Heizhan’s ribs right as Heizhan swung the knife. The sharp point tore across Nathan’s face, but Nathan’s punch had done its job – it had knocked his attacker’s knife off-target.
Heizhan swung again, wildly this time. Nathan broke free of the other man’s grip and struck out with all his formidable strength; something cracked in Heizhan’s shoulder, and the boning knife clattered to the floor. Heizhan staggered back a step, his right arm limp.
“Damn you,” he spat, eyes wild.
It was just as Nathan had thought – Heizhan had been counting on blinding him with that first slash. But Nathan’s resistance had thrown him off – and now the killer was losing what little self-control he’d managed to hold on to.
Heizhan’s face took on a peculiar blankness. He removed a paring knife from one pocket and dove for Nathan’s throat.
What is it with the cooking knives? Nathan wondered, awkwardly dodging Heizhan’s attack. Without missing a beat, Heizhan reversed the knife and stabbed downwards.
A strong dark hand clamped around Heizhan’s wrist, crushing it effortlessly; the paring knife joined the boning knife on the floor. Heizhan looked like he was strongly considering the odds of successfully biting out Nathan’s throat, but he remained still as Nathan’s other hand wrapped around his throat.
They remained like that, serial killer and almost-victim, until the others came. Pale hands roughly yanked Heizhan away; face set, Ekion dragged the criminal out the door. Lia watched them go, extending a hand to her son. Nathan took it; she pulled him to his feet, then hung on to him as he swayed.
“I’m taking you to Jetta,” she said, stooping to pick up the fallen knives. “You need to get that wound seen to.”
Nathan attempted a nod, then stopped as his head spun. Lia let go of his arm and slid her arm around his shoulders.
“Let’s go,” she said. They left the room without a backward glance.
Heizhan Thinks.
I.
If I didn’t know for certain he was still alive, I would have thought Maboroshi was a ghost. But no, I’ve felt the strong pulse that beats in his wrist, and I’ve seen the warm red blood that spills from him when he is cut. Still, though…
He is so gray. He fades into the background just by existing. Of course, part of that is his coloring and his choice of clothing – nothing melds with shadows quite like gray.
He’s the only person I’ve ever met whose personality can be described by a color, though. He fades away mentally, as well. When he’s not actually interacting with someone, he’s just not there. It’s the creepiest thing I’ve ever seen.
I want so badly to kill him, but Nathan would disapprove.
II.
Ekion is a simple, straightforward sort. He’s a guardsman – Nathan’s guardsman, at that – and he does his job quickly and effectively. There’s nothing more to him than that.
At least, that’s what everyone thinks.
It takes a peculiar sort of genius to be so simple; Teleika, from what I’ve seen of her, has some of that talent herself. But Ekion’s genius lies in his directness – he says what is on his mind, he does what he decides to do, and manages to put the most complex plots to shame at the same time.
Fortunately for us both, we will never cross each other. He is the kind of person I would have to kill, otherwise.
III.
He is, quite probably, the only person alive who would appoint his would-be killer to a government position. Not that I really wanted it, but Nathan was rather persuasive (if you consider a knife to the eye persuasive).
I still don’t know why he chose me for the job. I certainly don’t know how he got the Council to approve my appointment. You can’t threaten that many people at once. (Well, you can, but only if you want to end up on a one-way trip to the Phantom Islands.)
The thing that still amazes me is that the people I’m now commanding (the people I’m responsible for – curse him) actually listen to me.
Nathan says that they recognize an able commander when they see one. I think he’s optimistic.
Ekion says I remind them of my predecessor. I wonder what General Thaziazhsta did, that I remind people of her…
Most People.
Most people expected a general and a guardsman to be able to fight. The fact that the guardsman in question happened to be a cliff-wight and that the general happened to be a notorious serial killer only enhanced their reputation. Most people forgot that the General could barely use his left hand, and that Ekion had trouble seeing.
Most observant people recognized that Maboroshi was dangerous, too. Anybody who failed to notice the outlines of his hidden sheaths and threatened him anyway quickly learned one other thing about the aide – he could move like a snake. For all that, though, he’d had little formal training, and a skilled fighter could still get the upper hand.
Most people, though, seemed to forget that the king could fight, too. In fact, Heizhan mused as he watched the would-be assassin slip through the window behind Nathan, he was probably the best of them all, at least when it came to unarmed combat.
Heizhan winced as Nathan’s fist connected with the assassin’s ribs, remembering all too clearly how it felt to be on the receiving end of such a blow. The king hit like a mule kicks; Heizhan could hear the unfortunate man’s bones crack from all the way across the room.
The assassin wisely threw dignity to the wind and fled out the window. Nathan calmly returned to his seat.
The Council stared at him in varying degrees of shock. Heizhan could see Arawn in the background, laughing silently.
Most people forgot, the General mused, that the person who’d stopped a certain notorious serial killer, who could hold his own with the best of the Guard, and who had repeatedly avoided death at the hands of a skittish revenant, currently occupied the throne.
Three Thirty-Five A.M.
Maboroshi moved too smoothly to ever stalk, and he would certainly never stoop to actually slamming a door. He couldn’t quite resist sending his dagger flying into the wall, however.
“If that’s the way you express your temper, it’s no wonder your people believe you capable of treason.”
Maboroshi spun, another dagger already in hand, and came face-to-face with Nathan, who regarded him with a level gaze. Beating back a blush, Maboroshi pocketed the dagger. “What are you doing in my room at,” he glanced at the clock, “three thirty-five in the morning?”
“What were you doing in Heizhan’s room a half-hour ago?”
“Is that really any of your business?”
Nathan sighed, almost inaudibly. He glanced at Maboroshi’s bleeding hand. “You might want to take care of that.”
“Stop dodging my question.”
The sigh was louder this time. Nathan pulled a roll of bandages from his pocket and expertly bound Maboroshi’s wounded hand. “That should hold it until morning, at least. The cuts aren’t that bad.”
Maboroshi said nothing. The silence stretched over long minutes.
“Needling a serial killer is generally not considered wise.”
Maboroshi’s head snapped around; Nathan’s hand gripped his chin before he could retort, forcing the smaller man to meet his eyes. “He is a dangerous man, Maboroshi. If anything, his time in the Phantom Islands has only made him more dangerous.”
“I know that,” Maboroshi said when Nathan released him. “That’s the whole problem. I don’t trust him.”
“I know you don’t,” Nathan said softly. “No one does.”
“Then why are you keeping him around?” Maboroshi hissed.
The smile that flickered across Nathan’s face would not have been out of place on a shark. “Because I am more dangerous still.”
Three A.M.
Someone was sitting on his windowsill. It was practically impossible to see the gray figure in the dim light of an Anunnaki night, but then, Heizhan never needed to see anyone to know they were there.
Surreptitiously palming the small knife he’d secreted in his wrist brace, Heizhan moved noiselessly toward the window. “Who’s there?”
The shadow on the sill shifted; light from the room’s single lamp played across steel gray eyes. Heizhan’s hand tightened on his knife.
“Maboroshi.”
The gray man bowed slightly, still silent, still watching.
“What do you want? It’s three in the morning.”
“Judging by your past … activities, the time shouldn’t bother you,” Maboroshi said in his typical hoarse whisper.
Heizhan glared, feeling the old comforting fizzle of rage start deep in his gut. “What do you want?”
Maboroshi just watched him.
Minutes went by; the rage in Heizhan’s belly spread to the rest of him, burning its way out. Finally, he couldn’t stand it anymore, and hurled the knife with all his might.
The slim blade embedded itself to the hilt in the wall a foot from Maboroshi’s head. The exiled bard never flinched; after a moment, he slid off the sill, removed the knife, and extended it hilt-first to Heizhan. His eyes never left Heizhan’s face.
Heizhan seized Maboroshi’s hand, leaning in close. Blood trickled from between Maboroshi’s fingers, but the gray man simply stood there, without reaction.
“Why did you come here?” Heizhan asked, tightening his grip. He leaned forward so they were practically nose-to-nose.
“To check on something,” Maboroshi replied, sliding his hand out of Heizhan’s grasp. He moved to the window.
“And did I pass your little test?”
Gray eyes locked with Heizhan’s green ones. “More or less.”
Maboroshi vanished into the night, but not before Heizhan noticed him tucking a sharp-edged something up his sleeve.
Absently, Heizhan stuck his knife in his mouth, and stared into the darkness until dawn.
The Sun at Midday.
It was not every day, Ekion reflected, that one found the King of Annwn crouched above a doorway, trying desperately to keep his balance on the narrow lintel. Grinning, the pale Siren paused to look up at his friend.
“What, exactly, are you doing?”
Startled, Nathan Thaziazhsta nearly lost his balance. Only a timely grab for the wall spared him an ungainly fall. Irritated, he turned to his General. “Shhh!”
Bemused, Ekion just stared. “Wha-?”
“Sh! She’ll hear you!”
“Who-?”
The sound of a door opening attracted their attention. Frantically, Nathan motioned for Ekion to stop staring at him. Thoroughly confused, the Siren turned to go inside –
- Only to nearly collide with a small girl.
Despite her messy red hair, which no one else in her family possessed, only an idiot would have missed the resemblance between Lith and Nathan. Serious gold eyes regarded Ekion for a moment before the tiny girl continued marching resolutely down the outdoor corridor.
She got only about twenty feet before she stopped, turning back with a narrow-eyed expression so much like her grandmother’s that Ekion couldn’t breathe. Deliberately, the small girl walked back to the doorway, peering up at the lintel.
Grinning rather uncharacteristically, her uncle looked down at her. “I guess you found me, Lith,” Nathan said.
Lith’s serious expression lightened into a broad grin. “Found you! Found you!” sang the girl, jumping in circles and waving her arms in a strange sort of victory dance.
“You did,” repeated her uncle before jumping down. Cheerfully, the little redhead threw herself at Nathan, who caught her and swung her up to sit on his shoulders. “Come, let’s find your mother…”
Smiling, Ekion followed the two down the hall. Truly, that girl was aptly named…
The King’s Room.
Arawn stood in the hallway, staring into the depths of a linen closet. Bemused, I wandered over to him.
“What are you looking at?” I asked my twin.
Arawn closed the door and turned to face me, his eyes a puzzled gray-blue. He didn’t let go of the door knob. “This is the low wing of the castle, right?”
“Yes,” I said, playing along. That was usually the best thing to do when Arawn started acting strange.
“Built to add more multipurpose rooms, supposedly. That was just the official excuse, I think.”
“Eh?”
“Why is there a linen closet in the low wing?” Arawn opened the door and stood back to let me look inside.
Blank slate met my gaze. “That’s not a linen closet,” I said.
Arawn shot me a look. “That’s why I keep you around – your brilliance. That’s not stone, either.”
I knew that flecks of irritated orange were lighting up my eyes. “I know that. It’s a root of the World-Tree. I didn’t realize we were so close to it, though.”
“Neither did I.”
“Why…?”
Arawn raised a gloved hand. I fell silent. It was never a good idea to distract him when he was concentrating. Slowly, he stuck one hand through the root and turned to face me again. He was grinning.
“I didn’t know you could do that, did I,” I said flatly, nodding at his hand.
“Neither did I,” my brother said cheerfully. “But we’re about to get some answers.” He drew his hand back out, and I saw that he was gripping someone’s arm.
King Nathan stared up at us, indignation burning in his golden eyes.
“I thought so,” Arawn said with a toothy smile. He let go of Nathan’s arm a moment before Nathan would have moved away. Nathan, still silent, turned his stare on me.
I said the first thing that came to my lips. “I didn’t know you could pass through the World-Tree.”
Nathan sighed, a move perceptible only to those who knew him. “Landwights can pass through the flesh of the Tree, but not its blood. It’s living stone, of a sort.” He turned his blank stare back on my brother. “What are you doing here?”
“Trying to figure out why there’s a linen closet in the low wing,” replied Arawn, still grinning. Needling rulers was my brother’s favorite pastime.
The Wedding.
“I love Anunnaki weddings,” Kaezia said, settling into her seat.
Lia looked at her and raised one eyebrow. “Oh?”
“Yes. Get some decent alcohol, the proper jewelry, some sappy comments, and enough people who are aware that a wedding is taking place in a room together, and lo, a wedding.” Kaezia pried at the seal on the bottle she’d appropriated. “I’m also glad we seal our bottles with wax, not cork or somesuch. I can open these while drunk; I don’t think I could open a corked bottle sober.”
Lia eyed her friend. “I could make a really nasty comment right now, but you’ve imbibed too much alcohol to appreciate it properly.” Kaezia threw the remains of the wax seal at Lia, who caught it neatly. “Anyway, you’re forgetting something.”
“What’s that?” Kaezia asked.
“A proper Anunnaki wedding also needs someone sober enough to record the event in the Archives.”
Kaezia laughed and nodded towards the couple across the room. “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem here. Doesn’t Nathan ever drink alcohol?”
“Only if he’s forced to. He hates the taste.” Lia watched her son for a moment, then stood, pulling a small box out of her pocket. “I’ll be right back.”
Kaezia straightened in her seat. “Down to the serious stuff, eh?”
Lia nodded and strode across the room. Silence fell, and all eyes turned towards Nathan and Ekion, who were eyeing Lia with great suspicion. Lia stopped behind them, draped one arm around each of them, and opened the small box. Two identical ear cuffs, woven of gold and white metals, lay inside.
Lia looked at her son. “I remember the first time I told you about these, when I was explaining the nature of affective jewelry. You were seven, I think. I told you how these cuffs are used to link two people who are in a close positive relationship, and you became very serious and told me that you would have to find someone first.” Lia paused, looking first at Ekion, then back at Nathan. “I think you have.” She squeezed their shoulders, then let go, still holding out the box.
Nathan looked at his mother, then picked up a cuff and slid it on his ear. Ekion did the same, and Lia shut and pocketed the box, surveying her son and son-in-law seriously.
“If I can give you one last bit of motherly advice,” Lia said, unable to suppress a grin, “sex on your wedding night is always better when you’re not too drunk. Off with you.”
With that, Lia strolled back towards Kaezia, who was watching with a bemused expression. “What?” Lia asked.
“I’m trying to decide if that was properly sappy or just evil,” Kaezia replied, nodding at Nathan and Ekion.
Lia turned; Ekion was blushing so hard it showed through his hair, and Nathan was staring with deceptive blankness in her direction. Lia winked, and Nathan glared.
“He got that look from you, I think,” Kaezia said, redirecting Lia’s attention. Mock-seriously she added, “I wish you’d let Teleika come. I’d've liked to see you explain that comment to her.”
Lia glared at her friend, snatched the bottle from the table next to Kaezia, and poured herself a drink.
