Discarded Gods: A Bastard Cadre Story Read online

  Ethan led Taro over to Mattatan and his bondsan. He took the remote for the car from his pocket and tapped in instructions for the car to park and secure itself. The car drove away quietly.

  When they joined the bondsan, they formed a circle with all three bondsan holding onto both Ethan’s and Taro’s arms. Ethan noted the chocolate and whiskey had disappeared, no doubt tucked away in one of the bondsan’s fatigues for later.

  “Are you ready?” Ethan asked Taro, nodding up at the stronghold.

  Taro nodded eagerly, but then his face blurred into streaks that shifted hue and color. Ethan lost all sense of direction. The streaks faded into new blurred shapes and colors, and then the blurring cleared, and they were no longer standing on the street in the shadow of Frake’s Peak.

  8

  Ethan’s head spun, and it took a moment to orient himself. He was inside a wide circular chamber, with tall windows overlooking the desert far below. Pastel toned columns separated the windows. There was an opening to his right that led to an antechamber, and he caught a glimpse of two people leaving through that exit.

  His senses leveled out from the effects of traveling, and he reached for Taro’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  The boy looked exhausted, and it occurred to Ethan that he probably hadn’t slept since his ordeal the night before. Ethan no longer slept, most adults didn’t, but kids still needed sleep.

  Taro nodded, and his eyes went wide as he looked around the room. He looked down at the floor, almost as if he were trying to see through it to the city far below. He looked back at Ethan and nodded. “I’m okay.”

  A large ring shaped table dominated half of the chamber. When he’d served Lord Obdurin, Ethan had been honored to sit at that table as a member of Obdurin’s council. Now it just looked like a particularly expensive table, and he wondered why it had meant so much to him.

  Two men sat at that table. One was a pale, fat man in an expensive suit, and the other was a frail black man with short white hair and a neatly trimmed beard. The black man, Lord Obdurin, sat on a chair that had once been a throne and had belonged to his predecessor. Obdurin had stripped the throne back, removing panels and adornments until he was left with a sturdy oversized chair. He was dressed, as he always was, in simple robes that hinted at the monk’s life he’d led before his ascension to the Lord of Frake’s Peak and Rhysin’s Chosen. The bracelet on Obdurin’s left wrist covered most of his forearm, and the amber stone, Rhysin’s heart, mounted at the pulse point, glowed faintly.

  Two mute dimin stood protectively behind Lord Obdurin. Ethan glanced at them, Thwart and Sunder, mortal children of the God Rhysin. Both dimin went barefoot and wore only loose sarongs. They were not as tall as giants, but taller and more heavily muscled than any man Ethan had ever met. Thwart’s skin was crimson and Sunder’s slate gray. Their eyes were small and completely black, and they both had yellow tusks protruding up from their lower jaws.

  The rest of Mattatan’s cadre, eight men and women, all reflections of each other, stood at their posts around the room.

  The fat man in the expensive suit said, “Hello, Ethan, so nice of you to join us.”

  “Fahlim,” Ethan greeted him curtly.

  “Ethan,” Obdurin looked his way for the first time.

  Ethan was shocked by how much Obdurin had aged. He’d been old for as long as Ethan had known him, but the last ten months had taken a toll. Ethan tried to hide his reaction, but he knew Obdurin had already seen it on his face.

  “Why don’t you take a seat?” Obdurin asked.

  The last time Ethan had seen Lord Obdurin, he’d been about to sacrifice himself at his God’s command, and, disgusted, Ethan had left his side. When he’d learned the sacrifice had been stopped and Lord Obdurin had survived, Ethan had been pleased, but he hadn’t returned to Peak City or Lord Obdurin’s side. Obdurin’s willingness to do whatever his God commanded had answered a long pondered question, and with that answer in place, Ethan couldn’t stand by the lord’s side any longer.

  Obdurin spoke to Mattatan, “Ethan’s companion looks tired, please find somewhere he can rest and make sure he is taken care of.”

  Taro moved closer to Ethan.

  “No,” Ethan said.

  “No?” Fahlim asked in an amused tone. “I know it’s been a while since you were last with us, Ethan, but things haven’t changed that much.”

  “You haven’t changed at all,” Ethan said.

  “Thank you,” Fahlim smiled slyly, signaling he knew Ethan hadn’t intended it as a compliment. “I know it seems like a long time to you, but it’s barely been a blink of an eye, really. Though, I must say, you are looking a little more ragged around the edges than I remember. Are those streaks of gray coming through at your temples new?”

  Ethan looked levelly at Fahlim. He was immortal and never changed. Ethan didn’t trust him, but he was little more than a distraction.

  A question struck Ethan, and he asked it, “Where is everybody else?”

  “Why don’t you take your old seat; I haven’t filled it since you left.” Obdurin gestured to a chair on his left.

  “I sat over there.” Ethan pointed at a different chair to Obdurin’s right.

  Lord Obdurin’s council had never been large enough to fill every seat at the table, of which there were roughly thirty, but it was rarely limited to just Lord Obdurin and one other member. When Fahlim and Obdurin exchanged quick glances, Ethan asked, “What happened? Something isn’t right, what is it?”

  Obdurin looked at the bondsan standing next to Taro and repeated his earlier instructions. “Please find somewhere he can rest and make sure he is taken care of.”

  Ethan stepped back toward the boy and the bondsan. “No, he can stay.”

  “Ethan, have I fallen so far in your estimation that you no longer trust me to provide for a child?” Obdurin asked.

  Ethan looked at Taro and the bondsan before answering. “No.”

  He nodded at Taro who looked between Ethan and Obdurin, then nodded back at Ethan. Rattan led the boy from Lord Obdurin’s audience chamber.

  Mattatan and the female bondsan, Ethan thought it was Lattan, stayed where they were.

  “Please sit,” Obdurin said.

  Ethan pulled out a chair and sat down.

  “I buried a dear friend yesterday,” Obdurin said.

  “Who?” Ethan asked, feeling a sudden chill. Any dear friend of Obdurin’s was likely somebody Ethan knew and was connected to.

  “High Priest Solquist,” Obdurin said.

  Ethan sat back in his chair and let out a long sigh. Solquist had been at Frake’s Peak longer than Lord Obdurin. He’d been at Peak City longer than Ethan and Ethan had been born in the city. He’d served Obdurin’s predecessor, Lord Benshi, who’d been a cruel man. Solquist had always been even-tempered, and Ethan remembered Solquist sheltering him from Benshi’s wrath more than once.

  “I’m sorry,” Ethan said.

  “Why are you sorry, you didn’t know him?” Obdurin said, studying Ethan keenly.

  “Didn’t know him? What are you talking about?” Ethan asked in confusion. “I knew him longer than you did.”

  “I’m sorry,” Obdurin said. “I’m mistaken. It’s been a stressful few days. I’ll be seeing Solquist’s daughter later today if you have a message for—”

  “He didn’t have children,” Ethan said, preparing to stand and leave if these men didn’t stop playing games.

  “How’s Marie?” Fahlim asked.

  Ethan’s eyes snapped to the immortal’s face. His expression was blank, his usual mocking smile absent.

  “What?” Ethan demanded, his right hand reaching for the laser-cutter on his belt.

  Mattatan and his bondsan flanked Ethan. He glanced at them and saw their weapons weren’t pointed directly at him, but they could be in a second.

  “How is Marie?” Fahlim asked again.

  “Maria. Her name was Maria. What is this?” Ethan demanded.

  “Will she be jo
ining us?” Fahlim asked.

  “She died,” Ethan forced the words past his rage.

  “I’m sorry to hear it. I always liked Maria. Did it happen recently?” Fahlim asked, his expression still neutral, his tone edging on polite boredom.

  Ethan clenched his fists. Staring at Fahlim, he said, “Say her name one more time, and I will take your immortality from you.”

  “Ethan,” Obdurin said, his voice soft and calm. Ethan continued to stare at Fahlim until Obdurin said his name again.

  “What game are you playing?” Ethan demanded.

  “Be calm, Ethan. We wish you no harm, but I have one more question, and you won’t like it,” Obdurin said, looking directly into Ethan’s eyes.

  Ethan took two controlled breaths then nodded at Obdurin. “Ask it, and then tell me why you’re asking these things.”

  Obdurin nodded. In a calm, slow voice, he said, “Tell me how Maria died.”

  Ethan stood up suddenly, knocking the chair over behind him. He clenched and unclenched his fists. Mattatan and his bondsan stepped back from Ethan with their weapons held ready. Around the perimeter of the audience chamber, other tattooed bondsan stood ready.

  “Fuck you!” Ethan spat the words at Obdurin and started for the exit.

  “It’s critically important that you tell me, Ethan,” Obdurin said, his voice louder than before. “I won’t let you leave this room alive if you don’t answer the question.”

  “You can’t kill me,” Ethan snapped as he strode to the exit.

  “I’m afraid we can,” Fahlim said. “We know the limitations of your talent as well as you do. You can survive almost anything, and if you see it coming, it probably won’t even leave a scratch. It’s the things that you don’t see coming that leave a mark. It’ll be something you don’t see coming that kills you, Ethan.”

  Ethan stopped to look at Fahlim. He glanced at Mattatan and his bondsan around the room, and then his gaze stopped on Obdurin.

  “Okay, I’ll tell you.” He walked back to the table and leaned on it, his fists balled up tightly and taking his weight. “She died in Mawtar putting the Mad God’s heart on your boy Duman’s wrist. She died in Mawtar because you sent us there. She died because you play Rhysin’s games and because her life meant nothing to you.” Ethan shouted the last. He stood breathing heavily and staring at Obdurin.

  Behind the Chosen, bondsan visibly relaxed. Fahlim exhaled and Mattatan and his bondsan stepped back, signaling they no longer considered Ethan a threat.

  9

  “What’s happening?” Ethan asked.

  “There was a pintaran here in the stronghold. We think we’ve driven it away, but we had to be sure that you really are you,” Obdurin said.

  “A pintaran? Why was a changeling here?” Ethan asked.

  “I’m sorry, Ethan. I really am sorry,” Obdurin said. There was sadness in his eyes that Ethan had never seen there before.

  Ethan remembered the words he’d said to Obdurin in anger, She died because you play Rhysin’s games and because her life meant nothing to you.

  He already regretted saying them, but he wouldn’t take them back. He couldn’t. He stooped to pick up the chair he’d knocked over, and he sat back down. “You thought I was a changeling?”

  “No,” Obdurin said.

  “But we didn’t know you weren’t,” Fahlim said from across the table, an odd expression on his face that Ethan thought might be regret, but it was so incongruent with Fahlim, that Ethan dismissed it. “Pintarans can look like anybody or anything. We had to be sure.”

  Ethan looked back at Lord Obdurin. He nodded, signaling he understood. “What’s happening?” Ethan asked.

  Obdurin leaned back in his chair. “The game continues, Ethan. I can let you back in if you’re ready to rejoin us and do Rhysin’s work in the…” Obdurin trailed off as Ethan shook his head. “If you don’t want to be part of what we’re doing, I cannot tell you anything.”

  “You said you’d tell me if I answered your questions.”

  “I said I would tell you why I was asking the questions, and I have.”

  “Fucking games,” Ethan said, disgusted. “Okay. You need my skills. Who is it? Who do you need me to kill? Why do you need them dead? I won’t be an uninformed assassin. You have to tell me that much.”

  “I didn’t ask you here to be an assassin. It’s your skill as a protector that I’m interested in,” Obdurin said.

  “What?” Ethan was so surprised by this answer that it took him a moment to process it. “Who?”

  “A young woman and a child. I’m afraid their connection to me, puts them in danger, and I can no longer guarantee their safety if they stay in Peak City.”

  “Who is she?” Ethan asked.

  A quick glanced passed between Fahlim and Obdurin, and Ethan understood he’d asked the wrong question. He’d been close enough to Obdurin for long enough to know how he worked, and Fahlim was a master of misdirection. Ethan sat back in his chair to wait for the answer.

  “Her name is Marin. She’s been here for about six months, and she has become quite special to me.”

  Ethan almost laughed, but he kept his reaction to himself. It was a good attempt, the thought of Obdurin with a mistress and an heir would have been enough to distract him if they hadn’t exchanged that quick look when he took the bait.

  Marin. It almost sounds like Maria. I wonder if that’s her real name or part of a manipulation, he thought.

  Ethan watched Obdurin and Fahlim as they waited for his response. Finally, he let some of his amusement show and asked, “And the child?”

  “Really, Ethan. You were more discrete—” Fahlim started, but Ethan cut him off.

  “And you were hoping to use that discretion against me. Well, it won’t work. Who is the child?” Ethan asked.

  There was a pause, and then both men started to speak at the same time. Ethan assumed Fahlim to deliver another lie, and Obdurin to tell the truth.

  The bondsan standing around the room filed out through the exit and down the stairs beyond. Obdurin hadn’t given them a verbal command, but Ethan guessed he’d silently told Mattatan and his cadre to withdraw.

  Ethan watched Obdurin who kept his eyes on the cadre as the last of the bondsan filed out of the audience chamber.

  Ethan asked, “Are you keeping secrets from your cadres now?”

  Obdurin’s answering smile was tight. “No, I have something to tell you about cadres, and I would spare Mattatan and his cadre, and the other cadres bound to me, from listening to what I have to say.”

  “Does this have something to do with the child you want me to protect?” Ethan asked.

  “It does,” Obdurin said. “My peers, the other Chosen, view their cadres as instruments of their authority. Cadres can be deployed on the battlefield, as bodyguards, assassins, diplomatic messengers, they can be used in a variety of ways as suits the needs of the Chosen they are bound to.”

  “I know all of this. Mattatan does too,” Ethan said, feeling obliged to defend the man in his absence.

  “He does. He also knows the different ways cadres can be formed, but I imagine listening to me list them off as though we’re discussing livestock might not be very comfortable for him or his cadre. Other Chosen might not care, but I do. I think cadres are much more than they appear. I think that they have been viewed as little more than tools of the trade for so long that their presence is taken for granted, and their true potential overlooked. I don’t remember if you have seen the process of a cadre being bound.”

  Ethan shook his head. He’d been around cadres his entire career, but there was always a distance between bondsan and the rest of the world. Ethan had always felt cadres put up barriers around themselves, but he also knew he tried not to get too close. Mattatan was an exception, and Ethan suspected, he himself was an exception for Mattatan. Obdurin’s description of cadres as instruments cut close to the bone, but it didn’t go far enough. As newborns, cadres were bound together, and the course of thei
r lives was decided in an instant. Even serving Lord Benshi, Ethan had managed to avoid being present at a binding.

  “Oh, don’t be so squeamish, Ethan,” Fahlim said, “there’s nothing to it. As with many things in life, it’s over almost before it’s begun.”

  “Except that’s not true, is it? Once bound they are bound for life,” Ethan said.

  “Not always,” Fahlim said.

  “Nobody would choose the life of the unbound,” Ethan said.

  “You are right, Ethan,” Obdurin said. “I’m afraid binding cadres is a process that has gone on for over four hundred years. It’s routine. All the Chosen follow the same or similar processes. They produce new cadres like clockwork. As technology has improved some minor improvements have been made to the process. Some cadres are bred as humans have always been bred, some cadres are grown in vats, some are clones. I understand in Usan there was a long-standing practice of monitoring the genetic lines of the cadre’s parents. Entire generations of bondsan were so closely related to each other it was almost impossible to tell one cadre from another, let-alone individual bondsan within cadres.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” Ethan asked, growing bored of the lecture.

  “Because I want you to understand what I am asking of you. Ethan, I never asked for this. I never expected to be a God’s Chosen. I didn’t expect to rule a nation, but here I am. I didn’t expect any of it, but I have to deal with it, and I have to do so with the tools available to me.”

  “Rhyne is empty, you rule over a city at most,” Ethan said.

  Obdurin nodded. “It’s true, but this position I find myself in grants opportunities to achieve much more than simply rule over a country or a city.”

  “You fight a God’s war,” Ethan said. He’d never voiced this complaint to Obdurin before and with the first part said, he felt he must continue. “You’re as responsible for the state of the world as the God you serve.”

  There was silence in the room for a moment, and even Fahlim didn’t break it.

  Obdurin’s cheeks darkened, and his eyes widened briefly in anger. Rhysin’s heart pulsed twice, glowing brighter on Obdurin’s wrist. The old man took two deliberate breaths and said, “This is also true, Ethan. And here I am, in this position with this authority that I never expected to hold,” he shrugged in a way that exposed Rhysin’s heart. “It is as you say, the Chosen and the True Gods who are responsible for the way of the world. I’d like to change things, and I’ve decided to start with one cadre. The child I would like you to watch over is the first-sworn in the cadre.”