10 - GAVRIEL

Justinia slept on the floor while I took the bed. I felt bad about that, and insisted that we reverse positions, but she simply waved me off, finished unbuckling her Autarchy armor, laid a blanket out across the hard-wood floor, and fell immediately asleep.

I tried to do the same but firstly, it took me a long time to figure out how to get out of all that armor, and secondly, although I was exhausted, and every part of me deeply aching, I found myself staring up at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Outside our window, the city bustled and seemed to call to me. A hive full of souls. A million or more of them, perfectly alive, bodies overflowing with the inherent power of life. I could feel the edges of their collective aura, an ocean of energy lapping at the shores of my mind.

Eventually, I did sleep.

I dreamt of an army of undulating bones.

Justinia was gone when I woke.

Groggy, I staggered down the stairs. Early morning light poured in through the open, ground floor windows. How long had I slept for? Too long, maybe, but my body felt more pain-free then it had for some time, for which I was grateful.

No customers yet, but there Justinia was, sitting at a table opposite Gavriel. The two were eating—sausages, potatoes, scattered vegetables. I approached and the two ceased their conspiratorial whispering and drank from jugs of what I saw was nothing more than water.

“Morning,” I said, easing into a chair beside them.

Gavriel raised an eyebrow. “Slept well, eh?”

“Quite well. It was much needed.” I fidgeted. “I didn’t miss anything, did I? What are the two of you talking about?”

Gavriel waved a hand. “The past. Which is a luxury we can’t truly afford. Stay there right, I’ll get you something to eat—and to drink.”

“Just water?” I asked.

“What else?” said the man.

“Wine, perhaps, or—I’ve always wanted to try beer—”

Gavriel narrowed his eyes. “That a joke? Not a very funny one, if so. I’ll be back.” And off he went.

I frowned at his back, said to Justinia, “What did I say wrong?”

Justinia leaned back and sighed. “I sometimes forget just how little you know of the continent. Don’t ask about wine or beer or alcohol at all. The Autarchy banned anything alcoholic. Law came into place about a decade or so ago. If you’re found drinking, you lose a finger. If you’re found selling drink, you lose your life—and painfully.”

I stared at her, aghast. “Truly?”

“Why would I lie?”

I shook my head. “But why? What’s the point?”

“It’s part of what Autarch Marak calls the Road to Perfection,” Justinia said. The disgust in her voice was evident. “He wants us humans to be as perfect and efficient and virtuous as possible. So, no drinking, no prostitution, no religion, or unnecessary waste, or any breaks for the common people, or, so it seems and feels, any joy in the empire. We’re meant to be the Golden Collective. A single, united body.” Justinia scoffed, then stabbed her fork into a sausage with controlled violence. “Bullshit, of course. Every single part of it. But there it is.”

“But the empire is so vast,” I said, confused. “I’ve seen a map. I don’t understand how it’s even possible for the Autarch to so tightly control so many people.”

“The machinery of the Autarchy is just as vast,” Justinia said. “An army of bureaucrats supported by countless actual armies—and each with the ability to appear at any other point inside the Autarchy at a moment’s notice.”

We lapsed into temporary silence. The first of the day’s patrons begun to trickle into the inn.

I said, “What were the two of you really talking about before?”

“The state of affairs in Tymora. And old friends.”

“Anything I should know?”

Justinia cast an appraising look at me. “That depends. It’s relevant, if that’s what you’re asking. At the same time, I figure, there are certain things where it might be better if I deal with them without you knowing. On account of the necessity of you remaining focussed.”

“You don’t want me to be distracted.”

Justinia inclined her head.

I forced a smile. “I appreciate the concern. But I think I’d like to know.”

A shrug. “If you insist. The thing is, Gavriel, he isn’t just an innkeeper. Man is involved with some questionable characters. Suppose you could call them an organization.” She hesitated. “On second thought, I shouldn’t say much more—”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“Just keep going,” I said.

Justinia let out a breath. “The essence of it is that they’re rebels.”

I nodded. That was along the lines of what I’d already deduced. I was getting the sense that Justinia didn’t necessarily think I was as sharp as I actually was.

“Formed a few years ago,” Justinia continued. “They call themselves the Thorns. Silly name, if you ask me, but—”

“I like it.”

Justinia scowled. “Of course you do. You just like to spite me, is what you like.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Anyway—”

“These Thorns,” I said. “Are you involved with them?”

A moment of hesitation. It was all the answer I needed.

“I was,” the woman said slowly. “A long time ago, for a brief period of time. Then there was a little…hmm, what should I call it? Accident? Misadventure? And for a while there, things weren’t looking too good.” Maybe she could see by my expression that I was about to hound her for details, because she then said, “We tried to kidnap Amara, the Autarch’s wife. Idea was that, if we had her, Marak would do anything to get her back. Problem was, Amara isn’t just some sovereign’s wife. A lot of people died. The Thorns were broken and most went into hiding.”

“Which is why Gavriel is now running an inn.”

“That’s right.”

“Right,” I said. “And now what do these people do?”

“A little bit of everything.”

One thing about me is that I despise vague answers.

“Justinia.”

She sighed. “I got a feeling that your curiosity is going to get on my nerves. Well, since you want to know, they poison water supplies, assassinate Autarchy officials, raid anything that can be raided, and just generally attempt to—my apologies—be as much of a thorn in the Autarch’s side as possible.”

I leaned forward. Here was something of interest. A group, however diminished, that was actively committed to causing as much damage to my enemy as possible. Without any other clear direction, it seemed as good a lead as any to pursue.

All I knew was that I didn’t want to be alone in this venture.

I wanted allies.

“I want to meet these people,” I said.

Justinia bit a greasy sausage in half. “Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“Because the Thorns are doomed. There aren’t many of them left, and the few that remain are actively hunted by the Seeking Hand and by lochagos—”

“Lochagos?”

“Autarchy assassins.” There was something in Justinia’s eyes then—fear? Trepidation? The expression didn’t suit her. It left me with a bad taste in my mouth. “Pray you never meet one.”

I leaned forward even further. “Tell me about them.” I felt suddenly ravenous for information—to know everything there possibly was to know about the lochagos, and about the Autarchy, and everything else.

“Can’t tell you too much,” Justinia said, now whispering so low that I was forced to lean all the way across the table. “Each is different. None are entirely human—but they used to be. They’re selected from carefully cultivated bloodlines. Magic in some form or another flows through their veins. They can change their faces, or whole forms, or compress their body so that they can slip through the crack beneath a door. Some spit acid. Others can climb walls like a reptile. They’re born to kill. They’re not afraid of death. Their minds have been so badly warped by the Order of the Seeking Hand that all they know is what they’re told. Most important part is that if you ever see one, it’s already too late for you. And once they’re given your name, it’s only a matter of time.”

Perhaps I should’ve been afraid, or at least cautious.

Instead, I smiled.

Justinia slapped me.

“Why the fuck are you smiling?” she snapped. “Are you not listening to what I’m saying?”

I recoiled, cheek burning. She’d slapped me quite hard indeed.

“Why’d you hit me?”

“If you can’t handle a slap,” she hissed, “then what are you going to do when the lochagos come for you?”

Which, I had to admit, was actually a pretty good point, and left me feeling suddenly foolish.

I had no idea what I was doing—that much was apparent.

“I want to meet them,” I said, sounding a little too stubborn for my own liking. “And don’t tell me that it’s too dangerous. Think, for a moment, about my goal—our entire purpose for being together. It’s just about the most dangerous thing I could want to do.”

“Which is one reason why we ought to avoid extra, unnecessary danger.”

“I need allies,” I said bluntly.

“Yes,” Justinia agreed, “but not these ones.”

“It is my understanding that you swore an oath to assist me in any way possible—and to obey me.”

Justinia went completely still, her fork, with half a sausage impaled upon the prongs, frozen half-way to her partially open mouth. I could immediately tell that I’d said the wrong thing, pushed her in the wrong way. There was, of course, so much I didn’t know about her—so much I was yet to understand.

What I understood then was that, deep down, Justinia was a proud woman.

And she did not like me abusing my power over her.

Justinia’s face went blank. She slowly lowered the fork, closed her mouth, and then leaned back in her chair, which creaked in response. “Very well, my most holy and benevolent Deathlord Prime. If you so command it…then it will be done—as you have so very kindly and usefully pointed out.” She stood abruptly, pushing her chair back, wooden legs shrieking across the rough floor. “I’ll talk to Gavriel, let him know you’re interested. I’m quite sure something can be set up soon. If there’s one thing the Thorns love, it’s a young, idealistic fool like yourself, who thinks he has it all figured out, and doesn’t believe he’ll ever actually die.” She glared down at me. “A notion which is always eventually dispelled. Often painfully, and tragically.”

I stood awkwardly. “Justinia, I didn’t mean to—”

She held up a hand. “If this is what you want, then I will make it happen.”

We stood in silence for a moment, looking at each other, no doubt both wondering if the other might try to get some last words in. Neither of us said anything. After a moment, Justinia nodded curtly, turned on her heel, and sauntered off toward the stairs.

It pains me to remember how naive I was then.

How certain I was that everything would go the way it was supposed to.