Blood of Empire

Chapter 8

By the next morning, Styke and his small group had reached the Jagged Fens highway. As they emerged from the wilderness, wearing looted, quickly mended uniforms and carrying the passports of Dynize naval infantry, it quickly became obvious that Orz was, indeed, telling the truth.

The highway was a full-fledged cobble road packed with traffic. It wound through the swamp, lined with frequent farms, homesteads, inns, mail-relay stations, and campgrounds. They passed through a town big enough to have its own garrison within four miles, and stood aside and watched as a platoon of fresh-faced recruits marched by, wearing shiny breastplates that had never seen a scratch.

Styke did not mind admitting that he was both shocked and impressed. The Dynize had hidden behind their closed borders for a century now, but aside from the odd story from a sailor or the curious newspaper column, everyone in Fatrasta had ignored their presence entirely. Not a soul suspected that they’d built an entirely new capital just a short voyage from Fatrastan shores.

During that first day, Styke waited with clenched teeth for something to go wrong or for Orz to betray them in some way. Everyone they passed on their journey certainly gave them long, curious looks, but the moment their eyes fell upon Orz – riding bare-chested on one of Styke’s extra horses, his black spiraling tattoos and proudly displayed bone knives signaling his station to all – passersby would turn their attention to seemingly anything else.

It didn’t take a perceptive man to realize that dragonmen had a reputation among their own people.

Orz’s demeanor seemed to belie this casual fear that travelers exhibited toward him. He rode up and down the small column, lecturing Styke’s Lancers on Dynize custom, home life, Households, politics, ways of thinking, and language. He switched at ease between Adran, Palo, and Dynize, though he only used the latter when a stranger was within earshot. He talked all day and into the night, his tone measured but friendly, his energy up like a man who was glad to be back in human company.

They camped alongside the road without incident, and the next morning Orz began the day riding beside Styke at the head of the column. Styke hadn’t found a dead naval infantryman big enough to provide him with a uniform, so he had elected to wear his normal traveling clothes with a hastily made Household crest sewn to the left breast. Sunin had made the crest at Orz’s instruction, and Orz assured Styke that the lopsided peregrine would mark him as a Tetle Household guard to anyone who knew enough to ask.

They rode in companionable silence for the first half hour of the journey, and Styke noted that Orz looked over his shoulder more than occasionally at Ka-poel. Styke could not sense any real fear, but there was no doubt that the way Orz felt about bone-eyes was similar to the way normal folks seemed to feel about him.

“You don’t like her riding behind you,” Styke commented after the fifth such glance.

Orz started, as if he hadn’t even realized he was looking back at Ka-poel, and then gave a slight shake of his head. “Bone-eyes can’t be trusted,” he said.

“You’ll find no argument from me,” Styke replied. “I haven’t met your Ka-Sedial in person, but he seems like a real piece of shit.”

Orz did a quick scan of their surroundings. “Never say such words aloud in this country,” he rebuked, “no matter what language you speak them in. Sedial has informants in every Household, including those belonging to his enemies. Even with him across the sea, his influence is such that you could be executed just for insulting him.”

Styke bit back a reply. People had tried to kill him for less, certainly, but that was in Fatrasta, where he had friends and a reputation. If an entire city garrison turned on him in an instant, he wouldn’t wager his luck in getting off this continent alive. “Right,” he finally answered, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Besides,” Orz said in a low voice, “I’m speaking of every bone-eye.”

“Her?” Styke turned and looked back at Ka-poel, who seemed engrossed in making one of her little wax dolls. “I’ll admit, I’m becoming fond of the little blood witch.”

“Does she have your blood? Or any part of your body? A fingernail, or a bit of hair?”

“Probably.”

“Do you have any idea what she’s capable of?”

Orz spoke in a measured tone, but Styke thought he sensed a hint of urgency in the question. “Do you?” he countered.

“She broke Sedial’s hold on me, which means she’s incredibly strong.”

Styke thought back to the battle at Starlight, then even further to the thick of the Hock and those Dynize dragoons that harried them halfway across Fatrasta. “You mentioned that you saw the aftermath of the Mad Lancers’ fight with those dragoons. Did you happen to come across their camp?”

Orz stared at him.

“There should have been two slaughters. The first was on the road, when we ambushed them. The second was at their camp, where –”

“I saw both,” Orz interrupted.

Styke gave him a sidelong glance. “The second was all her. She took control of most of the camp with her sorcery and interrogated the commander. Once it was done, she turned them against each other until there was no one left alive. She told me later that it took quite a lot of preparation to pull off, but… well, I’ve never seen anything like it. Privileged could only dream of having that kind of direct power over people.”

“Pray that you do not see such a thing again.” Orz’s head began to turn, but he seemed to catch himself at the last moment. His eyes narrowed. “Most of the camp, you say?” He let out a long, shaky breath. “Most bone-eyes can only keep track of a single puppet at once. Some, a handful. I’ve heard rumors that Ka-Sedial has as many as a few dozen, though he can only directly control one or two at a time. Hundreds, though?”

Styke was surprised at the awe that leaked through in Orz’s tone. Was Ka-poel really such an aberration? Was she really so wildly powerful that she warranted a strong man’s fear? He checked himself on that last mental question and barked a laugh. Of course she was. Orz might have seen the aftermath of that camp in the Hock. Styke had been there.

“Is there something funny about the bone-eyes?” Orz asked.

“No, I was thinking of something else.” Styke twirled his Lancer ring and watched a Dynize family pass by in a horse-drawn cart full of a type of unfamiliar fruit. “This civil war of yours… when did it end?”

“Nine years ago.”

“And before that, there were two emperors?”

A nod.

“What gave you such loyalty to yours?”

Orz opened his mouth, paused, seemed to consider his words. “He was kind.”

“Kind?” Styke couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped with the word.

Orz didn’t seem to take offense. He simply nodded. “Not just in a personal way. He was crowned when I was a child, when the civil war was at its bloodiest. My Household loyalties were on his side from the beginning, of course, but he made it his life’s work to end the war. Not to win it – just to end it. He negotiated fiercely, without pride, simply working for a way to end the bloodshed. He finally offered to give up his own power, and instead of putting him gently into retirement, Ka-Sedial engineered his assassination.”

“Do you blame him?” Styke asked. “A retired emperor seems like a flashpoint for rebellion.”

Orz snorted. “I understand the reasoning. But I had met him. I even guarded him for thirteen months, just after my training ended. He was a man of his word. He would have pulled out his own heart before allowing the civil war to ignite again. I don’t care if Sedial’s reasoning was good or not. I care that he and his false emperor slaughtered mine and then expected us to fall into line.”

“Were you there when…” Styke let the question drop off.

“He died? No. If I was present then, he’d either still be alive or I would have died defending him.”

Styke wondered about the man who could command such loyalty. “Where do the bone-eyes come into this?” he asked, resisting the urge to look at Ka-poel. She had ridden a little closer as they spoke, and he had no doubt she was listening in on the conversation.

“Bone-eyes are supposed to be like Privileged or dragonmen – we are tools of the state. Wards of the emperor. At the beginning of the civil war, the bone-eyes split nearly down the middle onto either side. As time went by, especially after Ka-Sedial came into power, more and more of them were swayed under his leadership. They became a cabal unto themselves. The few bone-eyes that remained on our side at the end were murdered with their emperor.”

“So Ka-Sedial owns the bone-eyes?”

Orz nodded.

“And based on what I’ve seen her do” – Styke jerked a thumb over his shoulder – “that means that Sedial effectively runs the country.”

Another nod.

“And most everyone is happy with this arrangement?” Styke tapped his ring against his saddle horn, watching a platoon of young Dynize recruits march by on the highway.

“Not at all,” Orz answered. “But they fear the bone-eyes. And they fear a return to the bloodshed of the civil war. You have to understand, the war lasted decades. When Sedial assassinated our emperor, no one had the energy to fight anymore. Peace was more important. Politicians on both sides were just eager to secure their positions in the new order of things. Sedial offered complete amnesty to his enemies, and they took it.”

“And then they let Sedial goad you into another war.”

Orz swayed unhappily in his saddle. “It was a… what’s the word? ‘Unifying.’ It was a unifying tactic. People were tired of the fighting, but it’s also what they knew best. Turning all that expertise and energy against an outside entity was the smartest thing Sedial’s ever done.” Orz passed a hand across his face. “Sedial is a man of limitless ambition. I fear what he will do with all three godstones.”

“That’s what I’m hoping to stop,” Styke offered.

Orz gave him a cool look. “I fear what anyone would do with all three godstones.”

“Point taken.” Styke watched the side of Orz’s face for a moment, wondering if he would still have to fight him at some point in the future. Everything about the man, from his knives and tattoos to his posture, indicated violence. All except the way he spoke. Orz was as tired of the bloodshed as the rest of them. The idea seemed anathema to Styke. Violence had been his life’s work. He had never gotten sick of it. Even in the labor camps, he’d just been taking a rest.

What would it be like to leave it behind for good? Could he?

“Were you planning on letting me live, back at Starlight?” he asked.

Orz didn’t look at him. “No.”

Styke remembered the fight well. He’d been badly wounded. Completely tapped out, running on strength reserves that he wasn’t entirely sure were his own. Orz could have easily killed both him and Lindet. “You didn’t have to answer that honestly.”

“I would have killed you, because I wouldn’t have had a choice,” Orz replied. “If I had shown an ounce of hesitation, Sedial would have taken control of me. He would have raped my mind and used my body as one of his puppets. I would have done anything to prevent that. But…” This time he did look back at Ka-poel, speaking loudly enough to include her in the conversation. “I felt his hold upon me snap in those last few moments. I assume she did it when she got close enough to his other puppet – your old companion that he had in thrall. It was like a yoke lifting from my shoulders and with that” – Orz smiled – “I couldn’t help but spit at his feet like I’d spit at the feet of his emperor.” He nodded respectfully to Ka-poel and then turned forward. “That’s why I didn’t kill you.”

“And that night at my mother’s grave?”

“He wasn’t watching. Acting as the eyes of a bone-eye is like having someone standing over your shoulder. With practice, you can get a sense when they’re paying attention and when they’re not.” He cleared his throat, then urged his horse a little faster. “Come, let me show you something.”

Styke rode to follow, and when he’d caught up, he saw Orz pointing into the bushes. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Orz replied. “I just didn’t want her to overhear us. I’m not sure if I could have killed you, Ben Styke. That bone-eye back there has her mark on you, and it is a damned powerful one.”

Styke opened his mouth to reply that he’d asked Ka-poel that very question and she’d denied that she helped with anything more than a nudge. He realized that she had no reason to tell the truth. “In what way?”

“She is not controlling you. You’d know. But she is protecting you.”

“A little protection can be handy.”

“But when does it end? When does she take control at a vital moment? A friendly warning: Be wary.” Orz turned around and rejoined the small column as it reached them, nodding once again to Ka-poel.

Styke let them pass, watching his soldiers and eyeballing passing Dynize. Slowly, he lifted one arm to his nose and gave a deep, powerful sniff. His Knack was not perfect, but he’d always been able to smell sorcery. There was, perhaps, the slightest hint of copper about himself. He smelled it on Ka-poel and he smelled it on Orz.

How strong was Ka-poel’s hold on him? He thought back to all the battles he’d fought since they first met – to the wounds that should have incapacitated him, to the exhaustion that should have left him on the ground. He’d fought through all of it because that’s what he was used to – he was, after all, Mad Ben Styke. But the legendary Mad Ben Styke had been a young man, unbroken by the labor camps. He was something else now, and maybe there was wisdom in Orz’s warning. Maybe he wasn’t as strong as he thought he was.

The thought gave him a moment of disquiet deep in his belly. Ally or not, he did not like the idea of being enhanced by Ka-poel’s blood sorcery.