The Heir (Fall of the Swords Book 3) (9 page)

“Just another Imperial strumpet getting her final shafting—from her own son, too.” Scowling Tiger looked northward, along the ravine, his mind wandering. He snapped back to the present. “Infinite blast it, why didn't the Usurper die?!” The bandit general pounded the log with his right fist. “Listen, Seeking Sword, I don't trust the General's madness. Years ago, I talked with a man named Crazy Bear—Guarding Bear's father. Crazy Bear wasn't at all crazy, just hiding behind the name. You know how we revere the insane? It's a ploy to gain a measure of latitude in behavior. Not a man more wily than the General Guarding Bear—and he taught that stinking Heir all he knows.
That's
the reason I fear that bastard Arrow!”

With an effort, Scowling Tiger pulled himself back to the ravine. He saw that Seeking Sword was glancing around, as though seeking escape.

“Is he still farting through his mouth, Lord Sword?”

Thinking Quick appeared between Scowling Tiger and Seeking Sword, from nowhere. The bandit general glowered at her, hating the eight-year old but fearing her much, much more.

“You think I
like
being this way?” Her voice was scathing, her face not six inches from Scowling Tiger's. “Walking through a pyre is much more pleasant!”

Scowling Tiger began to sweat, the temperature going up twenty degrees.

“Listen, Thinking Quick,” Seeking Sword said. “Since you can't do anything to relieve your own torment, why don't you help others through theirs?”

She looked at the ground, as though ashamed. “I'm sorry, my friend. I'm not very easy to get along with sometimes, am I? Lord Tiger, would you please take my head and relieve me of my agony?”

“My child, my child,” Scowling Tiger said. “I could never do something so ghastly—I simply couldn't.” He wanted very much to remove her head. She would die, though, when she wanted to die and not a moment before. So despite his urge to try, he gently persuaded her to live. Both of them knew their performance was for the benefit of everyone watching, but most especially for Seeking Sword.

Even before Scowling Tiger met the young man, Thinking Quick had advocated for him. Rarely had she said a word in his favor. Image was her language, images of the future. In the millions of futures, Thinking Quick saw the approaching nexus. Upon her shoulders was the burden of choosing those who would lead humanity safely through it. Neither Scowling Tiger nor Thinking Quick would live through the nexus. Therefore, she needed to select precisely the right person. Despite her inability to see his future, Seeking Sword was one of two people capable of leading humanity through the nexus. Like the finest of tools, even he needed shaping.

Thus the bandit general and the Prescient Wizard acted out the brief charade, he not understanding and she disinclined to enlighten him.

“You're right, as always, wise Lord Tiger.” Thinking Quick smiled wistfully, apologizing again to both men.

“It was nothing, Lady Quick,” Seeking Sword said. “I have an idea. With the Lord Tiger's permission, why don't you come with me for a day or two, and forget everything for awhile? We can go north to the sea before ice locks up the harbors, eh?”

Her brown eyes alight with pleasure, she looked at her liege lord.

“Sure, go on, Lady Quick, have fun,” Scowling Tiger said expansively. Thank the Infinite I'll get the little meddler out of my thoughts for awhile.

The two of them bowed. Hand in hand, Seeking Sword and Thinking Quick began to walk northward, toward the ravine that served as the main access to the Tiger Fortress.

No, I couldn't have taken her head, Scowling Tiger thought. She had far too many talents for anyone to kill. Not the talented tiger from the Imperial Jaguar Menagerie. Not the bandit general with the nearly Wizard-strength talent.

Scowling Tiger took comfort in knowing she wasn't long for this earth.

F
or beneficent uses, implants detect when the body cannot carry out the subconscious directive. In such cases, implants disable themselves. Wizards who implant assassins never exercise similar care. When the stimulus or trigger—usually the assassination target—moves beyond reach, or when something impedes the assassin, the compulsion continues to drive the assassin's behavior without respite.—
Assassin Implants
, by Deadly Thought.

* * *

Having seen the Heir off on his manhood ritual, Spying Eagle wondered if he would return. Infinite forgive me my doubts! the Sorcerer Apprentice thought, wincing. He retreated from the northern gate of Emparia Castle, away from the others who had also gathered to wish Flaming Arrow a safe journey.

Brown of hair, of eye, of skin, the psychological Wizard hurried up a stairwell, wanting time alone, time to think. While his head spun from the ingenuity and audacity of Flaming Arrow's plan, Spying Eagle felt unsettled. Events from his own sojourn through the Windy Mountains still haunted him. Two months ago, Flying Arrow had sent Spying Eagle to track down a bandit girl—a Prescient Wizard, according to rumor.

Someone—Healing Hand—followed him up to the battlements.

Spying Eagle continued, picking up his pace. Reaching the top of the stairs, he strode swiftly along the battlement. He hoped his friend realized his need to be alone, unwilling to transmit the wish. The terror of his past intruding upon his present, Spying Eagle doubted he could contain his disquietude.

A native of Emparia City, Spying Eagle was forty-two years old. Adopted when two months old, he had quickly developed multiple talents. At seven, he had enrolled in the Institute of Psychology, the youngest ever to attend the ancient school. Graduating from the Institute at the top of his class, Spying Eagle had served under the Wizard Gentle Soul for his certification, earning the title of Wizard and the coveted address of Lord by age twenty. With credentials like his, the Imperial Sorcerer would have instantly accepted Spying Eagle as an apprentice. Instead, after his three-year conscription in the Eastern Armed Forces, Spying Eagle had set up a private practice in Emparia City.

Healing Hand didn't relent, still following him.

The year before the Heir was born, Spying Eagle had gone to the Bear residence at a summons from Bubbling Water, and had treated the legendary General himself, an inestimable honor for a twenty-six year old Wizard. Afterward, as Spying Eagle was leaving, a group of minions under the orders of the Traitor Lurking Hawk had captured him and taken him to the dungeons of Emparia Castle. From there, they had conscripted him and shipped him to Burrow Garrison on the northern border, where the warrior attrition was still higher than anywhere else. Months later, Guarding Bear had intervened, had obtained a signed apology from the Emperor Flying Arrow, had all confiscated assets returned to the Wizard, and had enlisted him in his personal service. Five years later, Spying Eagle had become the Sorcerer Apprentice under Exploding Illusion.

Finally, Spying Eagle stopped on a lonely western battlement, knowing he couldn't elude the Medacor Apprentice.

“He leaves a boy,” Healing Hand said, approaching as if in some well-frequented castle corridor. He glanced toward the Windy Mountains, as though to glimpse Flaming Arrow on his way north. “He'll return a man.”

Spying Eagle sighed, grateful the other didn't ask why he had been running. “Flaming Arrow's more mature than his age suggests.”

“Indeed, my friend—the ritual's only a formality for him.”

“What happened to the Lord Bear?” Spying Eagle asked.

“Mate-empathy link,” Healing Hand replied. “Infinite knows why it didn't kill him.”

Spying Eagle nodded, frowning. “Sorry I missed the Lady Water's pyre. I'd have liked to have been there. She was a grand lady. I hear the Lord Bear threw himself into the flames.”

“Flaming Arrow pulled him out, thank the Infinite. That boy surprises me, time and again, eh?”

Smiling, he looked at Healing Hand. “Remember the time Flaming Arrow hypnotized himself into a catatonic state?”

The medacor chuckled. “When he neglected to include a trigger? You had to re-hypnotize him to bring him out of it.”

Nodding, Spying Eagle smiled. “Infinite knows where he got the idea. Do you think he'll kill all those bandit leaders?”

Healing Hand shrugged, his palms open beside his shoulders. “If he were anyone but Flaming Arrow, I'd say his plan's impossible.”

Laughing, Spying Eagle shook his head. “For anyone but him, it
would
be. I have faith he'll succeed.”

“So do I, my friend, so do I.” Healing Hand turned his ice-blue eyes on Spying Eagle. “You've never been afraid of me before.”

“I need to be alone, all right?” the Wizard said sharply, regretting it immediately.

“Of course, Lord Eagle. If you'd like to talk, I'd be happy to listen.”

Spying Eagle felt the whisper of a probe.

“Why does
that
disturb you?” Healing Hand said.

“Stay out of my thoughts!” he snapped, worrying the hilt of his sword. Then he put his face in his hands. Healing Hand is my
friend
, Spying Eagle thought, has been my friend since we met, and will always
be
my friend.

“I sensed only what leaked from your shields,” Healing Hand said, his voice calm. “We both know I can't get through them—in normal circumstances, that is.” The Medacor Apprentice smiled cheerlessly. “Also, your mate asked me to speak with you, said you hadn't been the same since you got back. In truth, I also worry about you, my friend.”

The modulated voice of Healing Hand enabled Spying Eagle to restore some calm. “I'm sorry, my friend, I'm not myself.” Then he laughed. “I once told the Lady Water that we're always ourselves, but sometimes we don't like what we think, feel or do.” The Wizard shook his head. “It's those Infinite-cursed bandits again. Do you remember what I told you about my father?”

Healing Hand nodded. “How could I forget? I treated your symptoms, remember?”

Spying Eagle smiled ruefully, nodding…

* * *

Four years after the twins were born, while Spying Eagle was still Guarding Bear's retainer, he received a message. An unidentified sender asked to meet him in the Windy Mountains ten miles east of Burrow Garrison, atop a steep hill.

Intrigued, Spying Eagle traveled to the appointed place and began to climb the steep hillside. When he was halfway to the top, a man appeared at the crest. Climbing the rest of the way slowly, Spying Eagle couldn't place the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

The older man above him was brown of hair, of eye, of skin.

Spying Eagle thought he was looking at an older version of himself.

“Percipient Mind, it is I, your father, Melding Mind.” The other Wizard held out a knife whose haft was a single chunk of emerald.

Percipient Mind's mind faltered on thought's obstruction. His father had implanted him! Fighting with all his skill, he wrestled with his own mind—and lost.

Melding Mind entered his mind, took control, and read his son's memory from birth. Most of Percipient Mind's knowledge and experience were unimportant. While serving the General Guarding Bear, though, Percipient Mind had learned much sensitive information.

Their contact ended suddenly, night now upon them.

Unsheathing a knife, Percipient Mind thrust it home toward his heart because he couldn't live with the shame of having spied for bandits, even inadvertently.

Fluidly putting a hand on his chest, Melding Mind grabbed his wrist with the other. The point entered but not far while the two men struggled. “You'll live,” the bandit Wizard said.

Percipient Mind recognized truth in the words and put down the knife. While he couldn't predict the future, as too few could, the trace prescience that he did have sometimes confirmed what others said.

“Flying Arrow will summon you to Emparia Castle within the year,” Melding Mind said.

Again, a spark of latent talent verified this.

“When you get there, you'll kill.”

“Who?” he asked quickly, before the implant took him. It worked too swiftly for him to hear the answer. His mind was gone.

Dawn exploded into his consciousness.

Although the man opposite Spying Eagle looked familiar, he couldn't give the face a name. The other man looked haggard, as if he had overextended his talents. Don't I know his talent? Spying Eagle wondered, unable to remember. The other man had no signature—extremely unusual.

“You have a place among us, young man.” The older man examined a knife whose haft was a single chunk of emerald. “If you succeed.”

“At what?” Spying Eagle asked, feeling that he should recognize the knife.

The other man disappeared without answering, leaving him on the crest of the steep hill.

Six months later, Flying Arrow summoned Spying Eagle to Emparia Castle under the seven-arrow cipher, and asked him to become the Sorcerer Apprentice. Before he took the position however, the Sorcerer Exploding Illusion probed him deeply, searching for implants. He told Spying Eagle that he had found residual traces of an implant. After a further, deeper probe and an investigation, Spying Eagle became the Sorcerer Apprentice.

The first few weeks of his apprenticeship passed swiftly as he learned the duties of his new position. His former liege lords Guarding Bear and Aged Oak helped him become accustomed to life in Emparia Castle, as did his friend, the Medacor Apprentice Healing Hand.

A few months after he had adjusted to his new duties, Spying Eagle descended into the dungeons of Emparia Castle on an errand. Memories from his imprisonment five years before, quiescent until now, woke his latent anger. Lurking Hawk had interrogated him in these dungeons, then had shipped him north. Spying Eagle accomplished his task, treating the jailers with minimal civility. Remembering him, they looked shamed to have had such an eminent man as he in their charge.

Reaching the stairwell to ascend back into the world of human beings, Spying Eagle heard a sound from a side passage. He stopped and looked, seeing only the condensation that glistened at the end of a cul-de-sac, the smell of mildew strong.

A moment later, he heard a distinct human sob. He probed. His psychic receptors detected nothing at all. Stepping forward, Spying Eagle heard snuffling noises. Cautiously, he approached the source of sound. He heard muffled sorrow in what sounded like a boy's voice. On the psychic flow, however, wasn't a trace of emotion. As the distance decreased, Spying Eagle triangulated. To the left was the dim outline of alcove, where sorrow emanated from near the floor. At the end of the cul-de-sac, a few feet from the alcove, Spying Eagle sat. A creak of leather betrayed his presence.

“What do
you
want?” asked a young, male voice, full of sorrow and resentment.

“I heard your crying,” Spying Eagle replied, his tone as gentle as clouds.

“So? Go away.”

He stayed, saying nothing, seeing nothing. So dim was the light in the cul-de-sac that the boy was a shadow of shape on a solid black background. Spying Eagle couldn't even see the color of the boy's hair.

Snuffling on occasion, the boy seemed not to mind his presence.

Radiating comfort, Spying Eagle watched what he could see.

“Fornicating imbecile,” the boy said finally, though without conviction.

“Where did you learn
that
kind of language?”

“From my father. He has a worse mouth than the Lord Bear. He says he doesn't want me to learn anything from the General. Afraid I might get a case of treachery, like it's a disease or something.”

“From Guarding Bear?” Spying Eagle asked.

“Who else? Most loyal man in the Empire, and my father's afraid of his treachery. Bah!”

The boy speaks with quite a mature disposition for being six, seven? the Sorcerer Apprentice guessed.

“Who
are
you, anyway?” the boy asked.

“I'm Spying Eagle,” he said, feeling that the name was … wrong. What he should have said, however, danced on the edges of his mind, as if he couldn't quite remember it. “What would the Lord General teach you?”

The boy spluttered, as if the question didn't merit an answer. “What
couldn't
the General teach me? What warrior discipline
hasn't
he mastered, eh? Are you a foreigner or something? Don't you know the Lord Bear's the greatest General in all seven reigns of the Emperors Arrow? Where have you
been
the last fifty years?”

Spying Eagle laughed softly. “I wasn't aware that the Lord Emperor had asked Lord Bear to teach you.”

“No one asked him. He volunteered, with a little persuasion from me, of course. Why do you think he retired last week? So he could spend his remaining days in a brothel? Infinite curse my father's stupidity, though. He can't get past his fear of Guarding Bear to see I couldn't have a better teacher.”

“Is that what you were crying about?”

“Yes,” the boy said resentfully. “What would
you
do, Lord Eagle?”

“I'd insist on his teaching me. Listen, Child.” He realizing he didn't know the boy's name, which danced on the edge of his mind, as if he couldn't quite remember it. Spying Eagle wondered, exasperated with the mental block. “Listen, it's important to stand firm. If you back off now, you'll be telling your father you're weak and submissive. If you insist, your father will learn to give in more quickly to avoid confrontation. When you insist, though, remember to act as calm as possible. Repeat your request in exactly the same voice and manner.”

“That's a great idea!” the boy said with the first real joy Spying Eagle had heard. “Infinite bless you! I can't
wait
to try it!” The shadow of shape rising, the boy stood.

The Sorcerer Apprentice also stood.

“You know, that's the best advice anyone's given me yet. No one else ever tells me what
I
can do. 'Here,' they say, 'Let
me
do that for you, let me speak to your father.' Doesn't do much good. Something's wrong with his ears—doesn't hear very well. Anyway, I want to talk to you more often. You're the Sorcerer Apprentice, right?”