The Five-Handed Finger, the Mute and Madcap Singer,
to linger into anger unending,
fending inanity and rending insanity, the words come fast at a dash
rash lash slash mash bash.
And blend. Until the end.
A million eyes.
Molasses lipped in a single gem.
—Tomes of the Touched
“A Warlord Choerkin... And the runt of the litter, no less.”
Solineus swished warm ale around his tongue and swallowed as he stared at his aging mirror. He and his father had talked for three candles and four mugs, and his wits still hadn’t swallowed the enormity. “He’s twenty by now, I reckon, and plenty tall. But enough of my tales, how the hells did you end up here in Mulshahar?”
Adinvan frowned into his mug before raising his eyes. “Ours isn’t much of a tale compared to yours. I’d just docked back at Emudar Fost on the Eve of Snows, having sailed up from Ôfelun, when I learned someone killed the Lord Emudar and his family in their sleep that night. The Fost was godsdamned chaos. I sent your sister, Ederu...” Adinvan stopped to stare. “You’ve a sister, she’s on the Isle of Pon last I knew.”
“Maybe when I see her, I’ll remember. The name is familiar at least.” It was a cozy lie to ease their souls; not a lick of his memory recalled a sister or the name.
“Germund Ilô, that sack of wind, was strutting around like a king as the Fost crumbled.”
Hadin snorted, foam from his ale spattering the table as he wiped his mouth. “That preenin’ prick thought his shit were an order to be followed.”
Adinvan grinned. “Wasn’t more’n a few candles before a rider came in from Istinjoln warning of demons, the Shadows of Man you called them, and Taken.”
Riders from Istinjoln took days to reach Emudar Fost; he squirmed in his seat. He recalled how Ulrikt gave Meliu the Codex of Sol with the note to flee Kaludor. It was as if the lord priest had the heads of the clans killed, then warned the clans of his own failure to summon the gods before it happened. A thousand horizons or more away, and he could still smell Istinjoln’s stink. “And on that word, you sailed?”
“Wish it were true, but no... no one knew what to trust. We spread the word anyhow, had folks prepared... and a couple days later word trickled in, sightings. When Morgîth Shorkin rode in from Delkin Tower, we raised the alarm and ships set sail. Still, it took days, and I saw firsthand what came for us before fleeing m’self.”
“Word I heard was the Tek Brotna were attacking Emudar ships”
Adinvan shrugged. “Didn’t see it m’self, but I reckon it’s likely as not. We had damned poor timing all around. A day out one hells of a storm blew in off the Iverêun Ocean and we bobbed bare poles for a day and a half; winds died down we saw Thon sails moving into the Parapets. They ignored us, but we didn’t push our luck and bore south.”
“All the way to Mulshahar?”
He chuckled. “We gathered on the west coast of Resharm Island first. Late arrivers brought word of the clans gathering in Hidreng, but there was word of Brotna and Thon as well. South was our best option, Ôfelun City was the goal. We lost a lot of boats on the way; others gave up the journey and stopped off in Tek cities. Can’t blame ‘em much. The holies kept our fresh-water supply stable, but food ran short after a time.”
“How many made it with you?”
“We’re scattered, no count. The Lord of Ôfelun called us the lost herd and counted us at six hundred sea-worthy vessels plus smaller ships. Folks packed the decks.”
Six hundred ships, that was more than the rest of the clans combined. “A guess?”
“I’d say sixty thousand, if’n you include those who stopped off in Tek cities. Twenty thousand maybe made it to the peninsula right off, but more and more have trickled in from the Tek cities.”
“That’s as many or more than who made it to the Dragonspans, by my reckoning. Where’s everyone living?”
“Folks who’re able have been hiring out their ships, fishing, docking or dropping anchor anywhere they’re welcome. But, there’s a few islands south of here... so hot you wanna run around naked all day and burn to a cinder, and the native folks welcome us. Or others haven’t anyone living on them at all. We’ve been settling them slow and steady.”
“A new home.”
“Aye. From what you say, sailing back to Kaludor isn’t much of an option.”
“It isn’t. Not yet.”
Adinvan stretched and quaffed his ale. “I hate to say it, my boy, but I don’t reckon many folks once settled would move back north even if they could. A long godsdamned journey just to face ice and winds. Twelve Hells, I didn’t spend so much time trading in the south for the gold alone!” He laughed. “Not a soul loses fingers nor toes to frostbite hereabouts.”
Solineus chuckled, rubbed his face. “The rest of the clans could use our numbers.”
“There’s nothing for that, son, unless you plan on cuttin’ a canal all the way to... wherever the hells they are.”
Solineus snorted. “We’ve got Silone scattered across Northern Vandunez. Secure them islands and we might be able to get some Kingdomer birds for communication.”
“Birds? They got talking birds?”
Hadin leaned in. “We got eyes, more’n one set to watching us.”
Adinvan leaned in his seat, hand loosening his sword in its scabbard as he laughed at nothing. “What the hells for, you think? We aren’t flashing gold. You flirtin’ with some woman who one of these gents claims?”
Solineus squinted. “I haven’t been here so long, but I might’ve exchanged enough coin to gain some attention.” He doubted the lady at the exchange or her husband said a word, but maybe a hundred people had wandered through the lobby. He glanced at the folks sitting and drinking; he reckoned most were merchants and not a one wore armor. “City official maybe, checking on a large exchange?”
Hadin’s eyes flicked back and forth. “Ain’t no way you carried so much... How the hells much did you bring?”
“Two hundred and fifty thousands, or thereabouts.”
The man’s eyes bulged. “Sâguts?”
“Smedên.”
Adinvan spit beer across the table as Hadin stared at the ceiling and tapped his finger to thumbs in calculation. His voice came as a raspy whisper. “That’s over five million Sâguts. You shittin’ me?”
“I don’t even know what a Smedên is to be shittin’ you.”
The three men stared in silence as Adinvan wiped the table with his forearm. The old man huffed after a spell, rocked back in his chair. “I always knew you had a way with the ladies... known you attracted coins like that I would’ve brought you south long ago.”
Solineus scoffed. “Certain we got eyes? This don’t seem the sort of place for a brawl.”
“In Mulshahar, death is more apt to wear silk than burlap.” Adinvan smiled and waved a serving lass to their table. “A cask of your finest ale to go... he’s buying. A sâgut should cover it with gratuity.”
Solineus dropped a small coin on the table, impure silver, which he believed to be a sâgut. “So, you’re sayin’ I won’t want for ale in my lifetime.”
“I reckon that’s what I’m a sayin’. Hadin, stick your nose outside and see if you smell any outlaws who might want my boy dead.”
The sailor returned the same flicker their ale arrived. Adinvan tucked the little cask under his arm. “Well?”
Hadin smacked his lips and licked. “I’ll be lettin’ you see for yerself.”
Solineus reached over his left shoulder to unbind the sister’s cover; he’d wrapped the swords to hide their value, and the tie was loose to strip them quick in a pinch, but if a fight was close every flicker might count.
Adinvan glanced; a triple take at the hilt. “You shittin’ me?”
Solineus grinned. “You don’t know the half of it.” He walked to the doors, his foot shoving them open to stride beneath the eve. People lined the broad boardwalks, and horses and carts plied the streets, but nothing felt out of place.
Adinvan brushed his left shoulder as he strode past, heading east. “You haven’t been in Mulshahar long enough. Three men ahorse yonder? They aren’t watching you; they’re throwing shade for the one who is. I’ve only seen one twice: A Vikarê. Move along, but don’t stare.”
His father ducked into the street, stepping around horse dung, and Solineus followed. His eyes flicked to the horsemen, natural enough seeing as they strode that way. It took a second glance to catch black eyes beneath an umber hood staring at him; it was difficult not to stare back. He broke the gaze to look to clouds rolling in from the east, but he couldn’t restrain his curiosity as they drew closer. Beady eyes set in a narrow face, tan skin patterned with diamonds; either the person wore a mask, or it wasn’t human.
The being stood maybe five feet tall, hunched with massive shoulders beneath a cloak fashioned with a fine weave. After Adinvan side-stepped through the street’s traffic and stepped onto the boardwalk, Solineus was close enough to discern the flat face was more forehead, and what he’d assumed the chin was instead its snout.
Adinvan spoke with a raised voice. “We’ll make for the Evening Sky, got her docked yonder at the end of the fourth bay. We’re in no hurry to set sail, so you’ve plenty of time to get to know this beautiful city.”
Solineus drug his eyes back to his father’s shoulders. “Sounds good.”
Several strides later: “You stared, didn’t you?”
“Who was that?” It’d taken a while to get used to the Luxuns, but like the Edan, they’d had a human-like familiarity.
“All these people you see in the streets are just that, people who live and trade here. The rulers of Mulshahar... indeed, the whole of the peninsula, are the Vikarê.”
“The face...”
“Aye, they walk with their faces tucked to blend more with the surrounding folks. I’ve never seen what’s beneath the robes, but by the size of ‘em, I’d say they weigh damned near two hundred bricks.”
Hadin said, “Folks say their backs bear armor like an armadillo, their hide thicker than a bull’s.”
“Two hundred bricks. Armadillo.” He’d heard of armadillos enough to know of what he spoke but had never seen one. “So, the men in the tavern were its associates?”
He turned south toward the docks. “I’d wager not, but I reckon their eyes’re on you for the same reason: gold.” Adinvan stopped so fast Solineus ran into him.
A stocky man wrapped in yellow and brown silks had stepped in front of him. He blurted gibberish, but his father must’ve understood him.
“This bastard says there’re crossbows on us from the windows. He wants us to go with him to that building there.”
Solineus eyeballed windows all around but saw nothing to spark worry. “What’re the odds men knew our route?”
“Plum poor, I’d reckon.”
Solineus stepped close and nudged Adinvan to the side. He glanced to a three-story building constructed from fired clay, its orange hues showing through a coat of paint flaking away. He pointed. “That building right there?”
“Yostuvu. Seru-tê menid sômu ûballamâor.”
“He says yes and wants our weapons.”
Solineus raised his hands in peace and lifted his shield from his back with a smile; cracked the man upside the head with its face, and the shield sang a melodious tune as the man crumpled to the street bleeding.
Adinvan clucked. “Reckon he didn’t see that comin’.”
Solineus strode toward the building, Hadin on his back. “What the hells’re you doing?”
“Finding out why he wanted us in that building.”
“You crazy? Your boy is crazy. I never knew you to be a gambler.”
“Facing death too often makes a man no longer fear it.”
Adinvan shrugged. “We don’t wanna stand around in the street over a bleeding man anyhow. So, boy, you know who these people are? Have a plan?”
Solineus hopped up a single step in front of the door. The building’s face ran thirty paces in either direction, and without a window at eye level, he figured the openings in the wall above supplied light from a high ceiling. “Nope. Hadin, you might want to hang back.” He had to remember that these two weren’t fresh off the trail and still wearing their armor. “Maybe both of you should.”
Hadin snorted and Adinvan said, “Hells no. You step through, I’m with you. But I hope to the Forges your dice are lucky or weighted.”
“Crazy has worked out for me so far.”
They entered to silence and stared. The sun lit the room in dusty beams of light from the windows high above, showing off a tall room held aloft by pillars and stacked with crates lined in rows. There were plenty of places to hide and a half dozen routes to traverse amid the stores, and no doubt more stood outside his view. He nodded straight ahead and strode forward until reaching a broad open space in the center of the building. Wood creaked, and he drew the Sister before taking three more steps.
Six men stepped in front of them and he guessed more arrived from behind from the sound of hushed steps. Silks wrapped the men from head to toe, colors ranging from muted earth tones to vibrant flowers, and to a man they bore weapons. Most carried smallswords suited to the streets, but two of them carried short-hafted, leaf-head spears. “Hadin, how many behind us?”
“Three.”
A man with his face wrapped in brown silk stepped forward and spoke, Adinvan translated. “He says to hand over all our valuables, starting with that fancy sword of yours. Speaking of which, you skipped those in your story.”
“That’s a whole ‘nother tale. Tell him he doesn’t want this sword.” Solineus flipped the sword’s grip and caught the blade with a gentle touch; he smiled and held it out.
The brigand’s eyes glanced back and forth as he spoke. Adinvan said, “He’s quite convinced he wants it and tells us not to move.”
“I’m not sure what’s about to happen but be ready for a fight.”
“I’m ready for a fight the moment my eyes open in the mornin’.”
Ginger fingers reached for the hilt and snagged the sister, the man jumping back as if he saw a snake curling to strike. His eyes widened and the surrounding skin went ashen. His smallsword hit the floor with a clatter as he took the sister in two hands, dropped to his knees, and slammed the blade through his chest until guard hit bone.
The brother sang between Solineus’ ears when drawn and he charged the nearest man; a flash of steel to his left and he raised his arm, the point of a spear striking off the Kingdomer shield with a chime. The brother shaved steel as it redirected the thrust of another’s sword, striking and cleaving the guard and half the man’s hand. His scream ended when Latchu split him from groin to shoulder on the return stroke.
A whisper in his mind and he spun, the shield smashing a sword before the brother pierced the man’s silks to find his heart. He spun on two more men; one thrust his arm and took a half-hearted throw at him with a spear before turning to run. The spear sailed over Solineus’s head to stick in a crate. The other man half-stepped toward him before spinning to bolt.
The clatter of a sword behind him and he turned to see his father standing over a dead man and Hadin with two daggers plunged up and under a man’s ribs; he withdrew the blades and plunged them twice more before the brigand fell.
Solineus turned a circle, eyes focused for any movement, his ears open for any sound. Steps coming. He raised his shield and crouched. “We’ve got company.”
Four men with halberds, mail, and red robes charged into the room. “Sumâlu Mulshahar!”
Adinvan stood straight and wiped his blade before slipping it in his sheath. “He’s telling these dead men to surrender to Mulshahar, I believe.” Adinvan raised his hands wide and spoke to the man back and forth. “He says he’d gotten word of thieves attacking foreigners in this warehouse and he is happy to see we are alive.” Adinvan strolled close. “How many daguts you got on you? Give these men some coins and thank them for their concern. Don’t ask, just do it.”
Solineus sheathed the brother and smiled at the lead guard as he opened his pouch and palmed a dozen coins. He held out the prize to the officer and dropped them into his eager hand. “Tell this man how much I appreciate his service, and of course, to keep his eye on our backs.”
“Syet Syet! Honor. Humum tûê.”
“He says yes, it will be his honor, and to not worry about this mess.”
Solineus bowed then meandered to pull the sister from the brigand’s chest. He sheathed the blade and hung his shield on his back. “We are free to go?”
Adinvan laughed and slapped his back while guiding him toward the exit. “Very free. Even after he splits those coins with the surviving thieves, it’ll be more than he earns in a month.”
“I overpaid then...” Solineus cocked his head. “What the hells are you talking about, share with the thieves?”
“Someone meant those guards to save us from them brigands... to make a point to a wealthy foreigner that he needs to pay for protection.”
Hadin said, “I think yer old man’s got the right of it. Didn’t work out so well for the deaduns.”
Solineus sighed. “You’re saying we just killed a theater troupe? Tell me that won’t happen again.”
Adinvan laughed again as they stepped onto the boardwalk. “Tomorrow we’ll make our way to the captain of the guard and city officials to make a generous donation to their coffers. Then you won’t have to worry about another incident.”
“Wealth has a price. A peculiar way to do business.”
“Welcome to Mulshahar, my boy, welcome to Mulshahar!”