The Broken Eye
Page 77
“Those fourteen warriors, the first Shadows, moved unseen among all peoples of the world. Fourteen righteous blades that brought justice. Fourteen mist walkers protected the people of Braxos, and the vulnerable everywhere. They traveled among every kind of drafter, and whispered in the ears of those whose power threatened the balance, telling them to desist. It worked, some few times. But most often, it did not, and the fourteen brought death to a few to sustain life for the many.”
Balancing, as a Prism did, but by force. By murder.
“Braxos flowered, and knew greater prosperity than ever. The very word that the Braxians wished the reds to calm their use of magic meant the reds did, controlling their own priests, without need for death. There was peace, and magic flourished. When others couldn’t help and wights were terrorizing an area, it was the Shimmercloaks who intervened. The Order were the stern guardians of a harsh world.
“But the world is a spoiled child; it cannot long stand guardians, even when it needs them most.”
The figures said all together, “We are the guardians. We are the hands of night. We are the walkers unseen. We are the sword of morning and the bludgeon of midnight. We stand ready. For war, for peace, for life, for death, we stand ready.”
My new friends, the insane vigilante drafter murderers.
“In this world perpetually on the brink, with only our hands to steady it, a young man came during a time of upheaval. New technologies were being discovered, and the balance was threatened on every side. He became a Shimmercloak, and he was, we soon could tell, among the greatest of us that had ever lived. Diakoptês, his name was.”
“Diakoptês, the Betrayer!”
“The Braxian lens-grinders were the finest in the world, and it was they who discovered how to melt metals into glass to make the lenses that would change the world. Pitchblende and lead for red, theion and calcium for yellow, cadmium and brimstone for orange, orpiment and iron for green, cobalt and theion for blue. These were to be our secrets, and our new power. No longer would we have only to rely on the seven teams, on trying to find new polychromatic light-splitters to make new shimmercloaks when the old ones were stolen or destroyed. Then came a young man. Diakoptês, his name was.”
“Diakoptês, the Betrayer!”
“Diakoptês the Shadow had killed for us in every one of the nine kingdoms. As famous for his temper as he was for his skill with blade and bludgeon. He began experimenting with black luxin, a color that can only be drafted by those with great evil in their hearts. He grew corrupt, and he lusted after power. We sent people to him, old friends to entreat with him. He slew them. He stole his people’s designs, the very jewel of Braxian industry and two hundred years of innovation, and he equipped an army with it. And with his armies, he brought the bloodiest war the nine kingdoms had ever seen. He crushed them under his boot, and called himself a savior. He named free men heretics and brilliant women beasts. We know him by his true name: Diakoptês, his name was.”
“Diakoptês, the Betrayer!”
“But you may know him by his other name. The name he took for himself to make himself a god: Lucidonius, the Giver of Light.”
Teia shouldn’t have been surprised that murderers and heretics should have blasphemous views of Lucidonius, but somehow, she was. Even the coarsest slave’s complaints about how Lucidonius had overlooked the plight of the slave still assumed that Lucidonius, being mortal, had merely overlooked them, not that he was evil.
She bit her lip and said nothing, looking from hooded figure to hooded figure. Last, she looked at the pile of things she’d stolen, sitting on the stool off to one side.
“The Magisterium teaches that we have but one life, one judgment, and one eternity. There is in them no mercy for those born to low circumstances, to only bad choices, as if the daughter of nobility and the daughter of ignominy have the same chances at a life of virtue. The Braxians were kinder, more humane. We know that…”
They intoned, “In death is the cleansing of sins. In rebirth is the hope for salvation.”
“He called himself the Second Eye of Orholam. And so it was that the Order to Break the Eye was born. So it was we slew our favorite son Diakoptês. Not in hatred, but in hope. Hope for his rebirth. Hope for salvation.”
Together, they said, “We wait with hope and expectation. Breakers unbroken, our Long Vigil continues.”
“Thus ends the sermon of the first circle. May we all be worthy to learn more.”
They chanted something in a language that Teia didn’t understand. Nor, it was clear, did some of them, from how they lagged behind the others with the unfamiliar syllables. Then, it seemed, they chanted a loose translation, not quite so rhythmic: “True in darkness. True in light. True in daytime. True at night. Honest, fierce, loyal, strong, but hidden till we right the wrong.”
The gruff leader came close, and lowered his voice enough that the others would likely only hear pieces of it over the whoosh of the bellows one of them was working. “You know what these are.” He picked up a silver bracelet, set it down.
“Things I stole on my mistress’s orders.”
“Blackmail,” he said.
“Blackmail,” she agreed.
He lowered his voice further. “Among the deceived, Adrasteia, you will always be a former slave. The highest you can rise is to be a Blackguard. It is a good position, for a former slave. Usually. Less good in wartime. Everyone knows that the Blackguards’ standards have slipped in order to replenish the ranks. You will be thrown at problems that the peacetime Blackguard would never accept. You will die for the White, perhaps, though this one is almost dead. She won’t last two more years. And who will replace her? Someone you can love and respect? Will you be happy to give your life for the Red? Is that the life you want? A slave exalted, but a slave still. Is that the best you can do?”
He nodded to two of the masked figures and backed away.
Louder now, he said, “We want you, initiate, but we won’t blackmail you into service. The Order isn’t looking for slaves. You can be a soldier to be used as cannon fodder for them, or for us you can be more. We’re looking for Shadows. We’re looking to give you a chance to make a difference. To change the course of all history. To pick up the pittance this world has given you and demand more, and in turn give more. There will be no work as hard as what we offer, but together we can remake the world.”
The figures stepped forward and set the silver items in a pitted bowl at the end of a paddle. They lifted it into the fire, and Teia watched as the silver wobbled, lost form, and melted, ready to be remade.
Chapter 39
“I want you to stab me,” Gavin said. He and the Malargos boy Antonius were standing on deck in the early morning light.
“Your pardon?”
“I’ve been stabbed by it before. Maybe twice.”
“Where?” Antonius asked.
“Off Garriston and off Ru. See? It’s even been on boats both times.”
“I meant on your body.”
“Oh, in the back, here, and straight through my chest, here.” They were still short on clothing, so like the rest of the former slaves, Gavin went shirtless. It had scandalized the young lord, who had offered his own garments, but Gavin couldn’t accept them, for reasons he couldn’t have said. Regardless, it meant that when he gestured to where he’d been attacked, he was gesturing to skin.
Balancing, as a Prism did, but by force. By murder.
“Braxos flowered, and knew greater prosperity than ever. The very word that the Braxians wished the reds to calm their use of magic meant the reds did, controlling their own priests, without need for death. There was peace, and magic flourished. When others couldn’t help and wights were terrorizing an area, it was the Shimmercloaks who intervened. The Order were the stern guardians of a harsh world.
“But the world is a spoiled child; it cannot long stand guardians, even when it needs them most.”
The figures said all together, “We are the guardians. We are the hands of night. We are the walkers unseen. We are the sword of morning and the bludgeon of midnight. We stand ready. For war, for peace, for life, for death, we stand ready.”
My new friends, the insane vigilante drafter murderers.
“In this world perpetually on the brink, with only our hands to steady it, a young man came during a time of upheaval. New technologies were being discovered, and the balance was threatened on every side. He became a Shimmercloak, and he was, we soon could tell, among the greatest of us that had ever lived. Diakoptês, his name was.”
“Diakoptês, the Betrayer!”
“The Braxian lens-grinders were the finest in the world, and it was they who discovered how to melt metals into glass to make the lenses that would change the world. Pitchblende and lead for red, theion and calcium for yellow, cadmium and brimstone for orange, orpiment and iron for green, cobalt and theion for blue. These were to be our secrets, and our new power. No longer would we have only to rely on the seven teams, on trying to find new polychromatic light-splitters to make new shimmercloaks when the old ones were stolen or destroyed. Then came a young man. Diakoptês, his name was.”
“Diakoptês, the Betrayer!”
“Diakoptês the Shadow had killed for us in every one of the nine kingdoms. As famous for his temper as he was for his skill with blade and bludgeon. He began experimenting with black luxin, a color that can only be drafted by those with great evil in their hearts. He grew corrupt, and he lusted after power. We sent people to him, old friends to entreat with him. He slew them. He stole his people’s designs, the very jewel of Braxian industry and two hundred years of innovation, and he equipped an army with it. And with his armies, he brought the bloodiest war the nine kingdoms had ever seen. He crushed them under his boot, and called himself a savior. He named free men heretics and brilliant women beasts. We know him by his true name: Diakoptês, his name was.”
“Diakoptês, the Betrayer!”
“But you may know him by his other name. The name he took for himself to make himself a god: Lucidonius, the Giver of Light.”
Teia shouldn’t have been surprised that murderers and heretics should have blasphemous views of Lucidonius, but somehow, she was. Even the coarsest slave’s complaints about how Lucidonius had overlooked the plight of the slave still assumed that Lucidonius, being mortal, had merely overlooked them, not that he was evil.
She bit her lip and said nothing, looking from hooded figure to hooded figure. Last, she looked at the pile of things she’d stolen, sitting on the stool off to one side.
“The Magisterium teaches that we have but one life, one judgment, and one eternity. There is in them no mercy for those born to low circumstances, to only bad choices, as if the daughter of nobility and the daughter of ignominy have the same chances at a life of virtue. The Braxians were kinder, more humane. We know that…”
They intoned, “In death is the cleansing of sins. In rebirth is the hope for salvation.”
“He called himself the Second Eye of Orholam. And so it was that the Order to Break the Eye was born. So it was we slew our favorite son Diakoptês. Not in hatred, but in hope. Hope for his rebirth. Hope for salvation.”
Together, they said, “We wait with hope and expectation. Breakers unbroken, our Long Vigil continues.”
“Thus ends the sermon of the first circle. May we all be worthy to learn more.”
They chanted something in a language that Teia didn’t understand. Nor, it was clear, did some of them, from how they lagged behind the others with the unfamiliar syllables. Then, it seemed, they chanted a loose translation, not quite so rhythmic: “True in darkness. True in light. True in daytime. True at night. Honest, fierce, loyal, strong, but hidden till we right the wrong.”
The gruff leader came close, and lowered his voice enough that the others would likely only hear pieces of it over the whoosh of the bellows one of them was working. “You know what these are.” He picked up a silver bracelet, set it down.
“Things I stole on my mistress’s orders.”
“Blackmail,” he said.
“Blackmail,” she agreed.
He lowered his voice further. “Among the deceived, Adrasteia, you will always be a former slave. The highest you can rise is to be a Blackguard. It is a good position, for a former slave. Usually. Less good in wartime. Everyone knows that the Blackguards’ standards have slipped in order to replenish the ranks. You will be thrown at problems that the peacetime Blackguard would never accept. You will die for the White, perhaps, though this one is almost dead. She won’t last two more years. And who will replace her? Someone you can love and respect? Will you be happy to give your life for the Red? Is that the life you want? A slave exalted, but a slave still. Is that the best you can do?”
He nodded to two of the masked figures and backed away.
Louder now, he said, “We want you, initiate, but we won’t blackmail you into service. The Order isn’t looking for slaves. You can be a soldier to be used as cannon fodder for them, or for us you can be more. We’re looking for Shadows. We’re looking to give you a chance to make a difference. To change the course of all history. To pick up the pittance this world has given you and demand more, and in turn give more. There will be no work as hard as what we offer, but together we can remake the world.”
The figures stepped forward and set the silver items in a pitted bowl at the end of a paddle. They lifted it into the fire, and Teia watched as the silver wobbled, lost form, and melted, ready to be remade.
Chapter 39
“I want you to stab me,” Gavin said. He and the Malargos boy Antonius were standing on deck in the early morning light.
“Your pardon?”
“I’ve been stabbed by it before. Maybe twice.”
“Where?” Antonius asked.
“Off Garriston and off Ru. See? It’s even been on boats both times.”
“I meant on your body.”
“Oh, in the back, here, and straight through my chest, here.” They were still short on clothing, so like the rest of the former slaves, Gavin went shirtless. It had scandalized the young lord, who had offered his own garments, but Gavin couldn’t accept them, for reasons he couldn’t have said. Regardless, it meant that when he gestured to where he’d been attacked, he was gesturing to skin.
