Paths of Damnation 3 (Billenius)

Its disconcerting when your plans go awry right from the beginning.

 Half a hebdoma's delay was not something I had planned upon. But it had taken that long to recover from the poisoning, and face the inquest. The latter had been just a formality, Urbania crushing any attempts by her staff to make the charges of murder stick, which the poisoning had made mute anyway by law. Assassins and their ilk are as damned in our legal codes as in most others. That the fool from the islands had made it one of the old formal duels, but broken many of the codes his gens claimed to support, had made it easy to quash. The verdict of {nolo culpa} had cleared me of any fault, but still, it bothered me that only a few of the folks in town stood up to speak about this one.

Yes, assassins tend to be silent, but this one had not been, and the few who spoke for me had stated he had bragged of his commission, and tried to intimidate those he spoke with to silence. Still, one could not fault folks for fearing the threats of an assassin of retribution if they spoke of him.

As I broke down the tent the night before, and loaded it up onto my pack onagera, I noted that Didius was loading a similar beast's packs, balancing them as carefully as we of the Custos did. This was not a skill one expected of a man known as a foot soldier and temple guard, but then again, logistics is the lifeline of an army, and several times over his lifetime, Lorcius had commanded such gatherings, not to mention unknown smaller groups of men.

Each time I looked at him, he was looking back, smiling softly. Only the old man was packing, others were helping him, getting last instructions, and the like. The longer it went on, the more it became apparent, he had come here just to settle in these members here for some reason. Now he was headed to some other place, to check the needs of the guardians of the temples, or just the temples themselves to see if they had needs they did not voice to their superiors. That was the job of the Triarium, to care for the needs of the priests, who were too often focused on the spiritual and forgot the physical needs and comforts that made one more able to perform one's tasks.

Like me, he unloaded his onager after getting the load made even, so he could run free one last night to find sage and grass to eat before the long run of grains with little fiber to come. Turbator, my mount just sent from home a few weeks before was upset. Another stallion in the area was a challenge to his self importance. And one thing I did not need as I balanced his packs. Luckily, the pack beast of the Triari was older, more sedate, and far too interested in grass over the mare I had for a pack animal to cross the Sands with. He wandered off into the twilight, seeking some of that sweet blue sage that grew in the riparian areas of the desert's edge.

It did not make my troublesome steed any less ornery. Turbator was full of energy, mainly kicking a lot, and with six legs that made saddling and balancing a load on him a chore. But his line had been my pride for most of my life. Pater had other ideas about the lineage, which he said was too mean-spirited. But I preferred spirit to a broken nag.

As the night closed in, I sighed and let loose a simple prayer to Fortuna that Didius was headed any direction but west. That fickle goddess answered swiftly for a change, and my luck had turned. As I settled down to some tea and grilled beef and peppers, the head of the Triarium walked over.

"May I join you, Augur?" My back went up at that appellation. Among my folk there are special ranks of the priests, and an Augur is very special among the various flamenis. They are the voices of the gods, whom they speak through to give us their ruling and our fates. And with my gift for foresight of things to come, the priests had thought I would instantly bond to a temple as such a conduit of the gods. I was tempted to turn him away, just for the naming of me, as he had during the aftermath of the duel, as one who served the gods.

My parents had raised me better, not to mention the manners my avia had pounded into my head. "Very well, but leave the talk of auguries alone. I have rarely had dreams from the gods or sight of the future that any would care to hear. And I think we both can agree an augur would not have gotten into the mess I did this hebdoma."

Didius took up the other log, where the other riders used to sit until the day I said my time was over here, and they began to choose who would now be their leader, conscience and confessor. All jobs too close to the priestly ones that the Triari was hinting I should have chosen. He opened a roll of cloth within which lay something far different from my dinner, yet similar. Skewered tomatoes, baby peppers, and a white meat that dripped grease even before being cooked. It had to be Vartengi, the local horse sized, two legged lizards used as mounts by so many here on the southern desert, where beasts of thunder oft crossed the lower passes in the heat of summer, seeking more food or a nesting ground.

Vartengi is technically forbidden in the dietary laws of our kind. Beyond forbidden, even, as its meat has toxins it that can kill a Numen. I shuddered at the thought of the great warrior eating such a food. I had never dreamed of him being suicidal, or wanting to die. I looked at his face, as he chuckled. My face had given away my thoughts, something I had thought my years in the circuits here had sealed away.

"Relax, Billenius. This is for one who will join us in a few minutes. And try not to be too upset. He is coming to speak with us of something we, or more precisely you, need to know." He set them over the fire from the skewer hooks on the tripod I used to keep my teapot over the pile of coals. "I came here on a rumor, that one blessed with the gift of foresight was marked for death. This one who will join us has the details of the contract the fool you faced took."  He took out a collapsing brass cup, and pulled it open, the segments singing the bell tones of their metal that was one of the few our kind was not allergic to.

I sat in silence. There was nothing I wanted to say, I was not an augur, the gods did not talk to me, I merely had that touch of the foresight so many had, just a little clearer than the population at large. But the visions sent by the gods, brought to one by the Parcae, I had seen one in the throes of such a vision once. And she had died from the Truths she had been forced to see and give to the world in the end.

I was glad the smoke from the fire was blowing away from my gear, even the grease of the soot of such meat could contaminate my gear had it crossed it. But then, being of a more stable and polite generation, he had noted the wind, the fire's location, and been polite enough to let me see the food before laying it on my fire. He had even pulled out the coals to cook it over to allow them to not be part of the main fire, and thus my responsibility to cleanse afterwards.

The Triari poured some of my hot water into the cup, and set a steeping ball for his tea in it. The aroma was of the stronger leaves of the actual plant the dwarves call cha. I shuddered at the thought of not sleeping for a week. But Didius was used to such I was sure, having served in the Legions. But still the smell of the lizard wafted to me from time to time, roiling my stomach. I tried to think of who could have information they would dare share with others about an assassination. If it was an amateur job, there was the chance that the assassin or his employers would try to eliminate those who could tell the tale. Professional job, even more frightening to me, and we could all be dead in seconds, with no warning.

I knew a professional assassin, back a few years before. One that had walked from the shadows for a while, not to escape, but as research on how to get closer to his prey. I had tried to stop him, turn him from his path. But we had both come to a point where only our own views of the target had mattered. Or so I had thought. When I found out why the assassination needed to happen, I had stood aside, something I still regretted. And yet, I could never bring to justice one such has that monster of a person had been.

That made me remember I had other donum, ones that would let me be safer, even if I had not used them for years. Oh, the sense of knowing a falsehood I had used, and the sensing of danger near me was not a thing I could easily lock away. But the other sight from the third eye, that I had locked away for ages, as too disturbing to me. Knowing the real self of those around me, seeing the inner flames of their anima tell me the truth as they tell my eyes and ears lies. That had been too much to see, for me at least. But there were times I opened that eye, to save lives, or gain knowledge. Shutting it was something else, an effort best described as heroic, or by some as self abuse.

Lack of use can atrophy an ability, and thus it is with me. What I had fought so hard to sequester away proved as hard to awaken, and hiding that effort from one I had earlier denied using such to was more difficult. But something deep in my own anima was stirring me to do such a thing. That prickling of the hairs on the back of ones neck feeling, the one that says danger is near. The one that failed the great warrior in that moment, just as my inner vision slowly was awakened and focused.
There was a darkness around us, but to that vision, the world is lit up even at night. The glow of all that lives, has lived or is touched by the elements and magic glow with the power within them. That glow blurs within a short distance, one of a constant blue haze like the sky to my way of perceiving it. But against it, behind the gold fire that was Didius life force, was a dark area of coal black flecked with orange and red spots of heat of life. And a familiar feeling to that darkness.

It was worth it, to be taking that calm sip of tea as the veteran of many wars next to me suddenly leapt to his feet in startled rage as he felt the cold of steel against his arm. Steel that burned him, as it affects all our kind, save a few blessed by the gods with the tolerance of iron. Didius has some such protection, but not enough to not be burned by the metal we find so deadly. Smoke curled off his arm as the poison burned the flesh it had touched, grabbing the spear from the spot he had spiked it to push out at...nothing.

Already the one that had attacked him was beside me, and finding Specula's point at his abdomen. "Hello Jinatozu. It has been a few years, has it not?" I kept my voice and blade steady, the training of many years in a dangerous profession being useful at moments like this one.

The rough chuckle, like the burble of a stream over rocks came from our guest. He sheathed his blade slowly, leaning out to take the meal that Didius had made for him. This one was small, barely a gradus and a half in height, grey skinned, with darker patches under his onyx eyes, and scars of stark silver on his arms and face. Some looking as if they were newer, still tainted with the red of his blood showing through them. A red so unlike the olive green we Numeni have coursing through our veins.

"The joys of being one of the best at your job is you get more information if you do not pick up a blade offered you." This was a daring insight into the world of the assassins' guild. Daring for him to even mention how a job is offered to one of their guild. Such an admission would bring death to the speaker if word made it back to his masters.

Didius settled back upon his seat, still wary of the one who had joined us. Nor was I any less alert. My acinias lay unsheathed across my thighs, my sinister hand near her hilt at all times. This was not a friend we sat with, just an acquaintance, and one I still was not sure of where his true loyalties would lie. I stayed silent for a long time, still sipping the tea from the large mug made for me by a friend long ago as payment for saving her children. A mug of carved silver and simple amethyst inlays in the pattern of the symbol of my gens. It held great value to me, despite being of simple crafting.

We sat there quietly, each enjoying something, as Jinatozu ate, I drank and Didius filled a pipe he had produced from his belt pouch. Soon the air was filled with the aroma of fine tobacco burning slowly in a intricately carved briar. It was something that I rarely dared in this dry place, but it had rained two days before and the winds had been light with coolness of the mountains in the air this evening. It was a strange thing, this cold spell we were in. Some would call it an omen. I called it weather, and ignored the climate one would normally expect from the desert.

When he spoke again, it was softly, the rough voice strangely like silk with the words it delivered. "There is a dagger issued on your life, Billenius. Few will take it, for if you wait and the masters tell you of who bought it, it comes from the west. The Queen of Flame has some fear of you." He let the words settle over my mind like a kerchief of the fabric they had sounded like. Another long pause in the words in this deepening night of suddenly revealed intrigue.

My own voice spoke to him then. "I recognized the mark on the blade, before someone stole it. But enough folk had seen the blade, the red of its hilt and blade, and those markings. The mark for my gens and profession at the blade end of the hilt, the center mark the flame wreathed crown of the Queen of Flames, and the hilt mark of the single black onyx inlaid dagger. Even I could read some of that code, the draka had bought a blade to take my life, one try only, by one person.

But I knew there was far more in those symbols on the hilt, a code I would never know in this lifetime, unless I betrayed the way I had been raised and turned to murder to support myself. Not that I would, but sometimes, I found myself curious as to what the other side of my profession did. Curious, not driven.

I puzzled over the implications of this threat. I had no love for the Queen of Flame, the draka of fire who sat above Pelori, and had brought so many of the creatures of her element into this world, and thus by her proximity to my homeland, my native grounds. But I had never seen her as a foe I would be able to face. I know that the draoconis have the ability to see into the future with greater accuracy than even my doni allowed. That meant she saw some threat coming from me, one that made her fear facing me directly, or allowing me to reach her territory. What that threat could be was beyond my comprehension at the moment.

"I know this, Jinatozu. I saw the dagger that fool bore." My words were soft and paced, delivered with a cup of tea between my face and his. I was testing for another knowledge, for this one never moved at loud noises, so I had a theory he was deaf or hard of hearing.

A theory dashed by the rapid answer and chuckle. "I have heard that you have seen, and also your latest theory of my ability to ignore noises, Varus. Not a bad thought, wrong, but it would have explained things."

We shared a smile, and I began to realize there were those involved in the criminal activities who had honor and ethics enough to become a friend, or at least deserve my admiration. He was here, breaking rules, as he felt rules were being broken in the attempt on my life. A quiet settled over our fire for a spell as Didius thought, and I considered getting out a deck of cards and the board to try once again to catch the sleight of hand that had tipped me to Jinotazu's profession that fateful night.

Typical of the general he had been and still acted as for the temples, Didius had questions he needed answered. As he broke the silence to get them, I absorbed which ones were and were not answered as best I could. Which was not as well I would have preferred, but still better than others could do I hoped. It seemed strange to me that she would fear me right after I left the Custos, not before. Was it that I was assigned east and her territory the west of the desert? Or something more dangerous to me, that something had changed in the Fates recently.

The two others began a conversation, one that seemed to be conducted upon two levels, as if they were trying to either hide from me or any other ears that might hear their words. I did my own thinking as they talked, listening with one ear, as the saying goes, and using the other to listen to my inner voice tell me what it was figuring out.

At last something was said that I partially caught, yet rang in my head. "What was that, the bit about the prophecies of the Wyrm?"

Didius shifted uncomfortably. He obviously had hoped I was not paying attention to what had been said. "Nothing," was his terse answer.

Nothing that meant something, I could tell. I leaned into the fire, and started a fresh pot of water for my tea. The warmth of the fire was not painful, at least not normally, but suddenly I feared fire. A fear that came not from the reasoning part of my mind, or the survival part, but deeper, in the mystical portion I tried so hard to keep walled up in a corner. The place that now screamed for my attention like an alarm bell on the walls of a city. There was more here than either of these people wanted me to know of.

Something I needed to know. I dug in my memories to see if I could roust out what had reacted to those words. Which is not something I would normally do. I had been a Numen of action for so long, turning into one of thought was not my style. Or had not been since I and my deformed and outcast cousin had parted ways half a century gone by now.

Then I found the thought, and pinned it like an eel had to be pinned in the river not far away, when one hunted eels for their skin or other organs that had so many magical and other uses. Those creatures are slippery, elusive, and very hard to get to land without ruining the very things you are after. And sometimes my thoughts are like that as well.

I focused on the thoughts of the tales I had heard of from Umbradinor, and the books in Avia and Amita's libraries where I had studied as a youth. There was a set of scrolls made ages ago of the dreams of the last of the Lords of the Arbitrations, Tragrilom the Black-hearted, that foretold the future. And key to those prophecies was the coming of the one called Bahai-Luthna-Naish, "Sees without eyes", who would herald the coming of the new draconic gods and the next Lord of the Arbitrations. None were sure who those would be, but every time the omens seemed right, every dragon in the world would see itself as the next god or Arbitrator, which is the goal of them all deep down it seems.

I laid down my own scoffing at the prophecies. "There are many who have eyes and still cannot see, so I am not sure how the words of some ancient prophecy could mean anything several ages of the world later."

This got me a chuckle from the assassin. The head of the guardians of the temples was silent. The disapproving kind of silence, long and filled with a meaning not needing words to be conveyed, as his face told me all I needed to know  The Triari felt I should not mock the words of warnings from the gods to mortals. But that was part of his charge, to protect the image as well as the personages and relics of the temples.

We spent the night sitting there, talking of many other things, and I found the insights of both of these individuals to be enlightening. As well as entertaining once the tension from my earlier skepticism had passed. I was learning still many things, one of which is tact, something that may take centuries to develop, according to my father's mother. Avia has always had a low opine of my learning curve.

Perchance, deservedly so.

***

With the rising of the sun came the moment I had waited for many turning of the seasons. I rode west, not alone as I had intended, as the Triari was with me. But it was west, to my love, my home, my future. I had a pouch of messages from the outpost for the various places in the west, and Turbator was anxious to move on, He could sense we were not coming back, and being an exploratory sort, was ready for new places to roam, new grasses to taste, and more important to him I was sure, new herds to take over.

The trail was dusty, the long ago laid down ashes of distant volcanoes trying to climb again into the sky, casting an ominous paleness to the dawn, and that redness of which sailors fear, as the gods gave the warning in the sky of rough weather to come. We should have heeded the sky, but both of us had schedules to meet, I with my last duty to the order of the Custodi, the Triari to the temples, and our steeds to the their own desires.

Someday, perchance, I shall explain why we all should have known better from our own pasts, but that is a tale for another evening around a comfortable fire with friends.