Son of the Black Sword: Chapter Fourteen

    Grand Inquisitor Omand lived for the game.

    The Chamber of Argument was often filled with heated rhetoric, but it had been particularly bad lately. The recent casteless uprisings were a matter of contention, and now the houses suffering from them had someone else to blame. Debates had turned into fist fights, offense had been freely given, and several duels had been fought. The usual ceremonial guard had proven insufficient to keep order, and had been replaced with a few masked Inquisitors armed with truncheons and very little patience. That had gotten the politicians quieted down.

    Mostly.

    “Enough of your slander! These charges are filthy lies, nothing but calumny and defamation,” Chief Judge Harta Vadal shouted from the speaker’s podium. “This report was written either by a liar or a fool.”

    “Outrageous!” Another judge rose from the stands and bellowed his response. Why do they bother to set out a podium for the opposition speaker when they usually just yelled from the audience? Omand recognized the offended as one of the minor officials from Akershan. “How dare you insult my arbiter?”

    “If your arbiter didn’t wish to be insulted, then perhaps he shouldn’t have delivered such an incoherent screed to the committee!”

    “We wouldn’t even need this special committee if your mother hadn’t turned some casteless pig dog into a warlord!” Several other judges roared with laughter.

    “Order!” The presiding judge banged his staff against the floor. The laughter tapered off, but Omand counted the remaining smiles. Those would be Vadal’s foes. Then he counted the frowns or looks of righteous indignation. The allies. The ones keeping their faces impassive or expressionless were the undecided that needed to be convinced one way or the other. “The Chief Judge has not finished his rebuttal. The staff has not recognized the judge from Akershan. Now be silent!” The staff struck the floor again for emphasis.

    The official from Akershan sat down and the great game resumed. That round had clearly gone to the offended. Omand loved to keep score.

    Chief Judge Harta’s jaw was clenched, and he lowered his head and pretended to study his notes as his political foes in the gallery continued snickering. Omand observed that Harta’s normally calm demeanor was slipping. He was an eloquent speaker, but he had a temper. Quick anger gave some men power, but it made others stupid. Omand decided that Harta fell into the latter category. The murder of Bidaya had put him off his game. Harta was sweating like a man about to go beneath the torturer’s knives. Omand was an expert on such things.

    “This is an internal house matter which does not concern the Capitol. There is no need to involve the bureaucracy. We all grieve the loss of my mother. Mark my words, the traitor, Ashok, will be punished for his crimes.”

    “By dying of old age?” someone in the back bellowed.

    The presiding staff hit the floor again before anyone had a chance to laugh.

    Harta scowled at the gallery, but he seemed unable to locate the speaker. The normally eloquent judge looked mad enough to declare offense and demand a duel, but only a fool did that before figuring out who his opponent’s champion would be. Omand had missed the speaker’s identity as well, but his men were providing security and he had spies everywhere, so they would give him a full report about every passed note and whispered conversation later. Very few things happened within the Capitol without Omand’s knowledge.

    “Continue,” ordered the presiding judge.

    “The demands for the traitor’s immediate execution have been noted. Believe me, my fellows, no man wishes for the traitor’s blood more than I. My own dear mother perished because of his evil. My heart cries for vengeance.” Having always had a good sense of the dramatic, he paused to look around the room before continuing. If he’d not been so high born he would have made a fine actor. “Yet, I would charge that these demands are nothing more than thinly veiled schemes designed to endanger mighty Angruvadal, and thus the safety of my house.”

    Some of the undecided were nodding. It seemed that Harta was hitting his stride. He was appealing to the other houses’ desire to protect their own ancestor blades. Good recovery, Omand thought. Very few played the game as well as Harta.

    “Vokkan is perched like buzzards to our west.” There were several angry shouts from that section. “Sarnobat are slavering wolves to the southeast.” More outraged cries, but the staff didn’t fall. Omand was curious what favors Harta had plied the presiding judge with to let Harta get away with such inflammatory speech. “They say they demand justice, but it isn’t justice they seek, it is advantage. They would risk Angruvadal to weaken their neighbor…” Harta stared directly at the biggest group of undecided judges. “And they would do the same to you.”

    The Vokkan and Sarnobat delegations began loudly booing. Now the staff came down along with the demands for silence. A scuffle broke out in one aisle, but before it could get out of hand one of Omand’s inquisitors bashed an arbiter with a club and dragged him from the room by the beard. That shut them up.

    “Order!”

    Omand was sitting in the roped-off section reserved for important guests who had no vote, but who were of high enough status to attend various committee meetings if they wished. The only other occupant today was the newly promoted Lord Protector. It was always hard to guess a Protector’s age, since to a courtly man they all looked like leather that had been left out in the sun too long, but he was still a handsome sort, provided you didn’t mind scars. He had a reputation for being intriguing and mysterious to the courtly ladies, but Omand had no need to guess about anything, because he knew everything there was to know about this man. He was the firstborn of a house that no longer existed, the son of a disgraced bearer, and the Inquisition spies said that he had been a close friend of the fallen Protector. Omand was curious to see how easily he would be provoked, so he leaned over and whispered. “Your Order has been strangely silent on this controversy. What is your opinion on the matter?”

    “We form no opinions. An opinion will be issued to us.” The reports said that this newly promoted Lord Protector could be rather charming when he wanted, so the fact he was only coldly polite to Omand told him how he felt about the Inquisition. “Then we will fulfill our duty.”

    “Of course you will. You are Devedas?” He extended his hand in the southern tradition of greeting that he’d been told the Lord Protector favored. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person. We’ve corresponded by letter before, about that…peculiar situation your Order faced a few years ago.”

    “The Order appreciated your discretion.” Devedas didn’t shake his hand.

    “I am –”

    “I know who you are, Inquisitor. The mask fools no one.”

    “They aren’t necessarily meant to be disguises, Protector.”

    “I’m familiar with the concept of intimidation, only we don’t hide our faces.” Devedas pretended to watch the bickering politicians. “Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be off burning witches, or is the committee filled with traitors?”

    You would be surprised. But Omand only chuckled, as if that was a good-natured jibe between peers. “It pained me to turn down your request to investigate Chief Judge Harta. His word outweighs that of an untouchable, even one accomplished enough to pretend to be a whole man for twenty years, and Harta says that he had no knowledge of his mother’s fraud. However, I assure you, the Inquisition will keep an eye on him.”

    Devedas glowered in silence.

    Omand asked a question that he already knew the answer to. “So did you know the fallen…this Black Hearted Ashok?”

    “Yes.” Devedas didn’t elaborate further. Who could blame him? There was nothing but shame in declaring that you’d once been friends with the most infamous criminal in the world. Omand knew that the Lord Protector had recently travelled all the way to the Vadal to speak to the traitor in his prison cell, and though he wished he knew what had been said there, he couldn’t know all the secrets.

    Omand waved one hand toward the intricate carvings and colorful murals that decorated the vast and beautiful Chamber of Argument. No expense had been spared to decorate such an important place. “So what do you think of the Capitol so far?”

    “It’s hot,” Devedas muttered.

    A beautiful young woman had approached one of the speaker’s podiums during the commotion. The colorful scarves told everyone that she was from House Zarger. Despite her age she wore the insignia of a high-status arbiter, so most of the judges would probably think she’d either married well, or slept with the right Thakoor. Omand knew that this one actually impressed some very powerful people with her keen intellect and earned her appointment through cunning. The desert house hadn’t taken a stand one way or the other yet, so most of the gallery was actually paying attention. The staff gave her the floor, and when she presented, she had the melodic voice of a songbird. “I believe we all agree the fallen Protector deserves the dishonorable death of a criminal, but his sword, and by extension, House Vadal, do not deserve to be punished. The loss of an ancestor blade weakens us all, and leaves all of us more vulnerable to the demons.”

    There were shouts of agreement from Vadal’s allies. “What is your name, reasonable Arbiter?” Harta asked with a smile.

    “Artya Zati dar Zarger, Order of Census and Taxation. However, the casteless uprisings are being spurred on by rumors about this Ashok. The casteless take courage from his murderous rampage. They speak of an untouchable armed with the most powerful magic, who has slaughtered whole men and who still lives to spite us. As long as he lives, Ashok inspires them to more rebellion and increased violence.” As she continued, Harta’s smile slowly died. “The fallen Protector has become a rallying cry for the criminal underclass.”

    “The report is exaggerated.”

    “I do not speak about the Akershan report. This unrest is spreading. I’ve seen it in my house’s lands with my own eyes.”

    There was an uncomfortable rumble throughout the entire room. Everyone had occasional problems with their non-people, but it was uncouth to admit it in a public forum. The Akershan delegation had several villages sacked and officials murdered by Fortress magic before they’d swallowed their pride enough to request witch hunters from the Inquisition. It had taken a false prophet stirring up a full-on rebellion for them to accept the shame of needing the Capitol’s help to control their non-people. Freely admitting to unrest in Zarger was a curious development. Everyone was paying attention now.

    “The non-people are increasing in boldness and depravity. Their degenerate nature is idle, but quick to riot, and now all of them are whispering about the Lawbreaker in Vadal. Your inability to detect this fraud has endangered us all.”

    Harta was in a difficult position. He could attack Atrya as a liar, but he needed Zarger’s votes and couldn’t risk giving offense. Omand enjoyed watching him squirm. He suspected that Harta had known about Bidaya’s plot to conceal the blade’s choosing a casteless boy all along, and given an excuse he’d love to torture a confession out of the pretentious little fop, but even Omand had to tread carefully about charging Chief Judges with crimes. He noticed that Lord Protector Devedas was also studying the Chief Judge with barely concealed disgust. Interesting…Before Harta could formulate a response the murmuring had died down and Atrya resumed speaking.

    “Our houses suffer because of the sickness in Vadal, but we are all infected. Do not blame Great House Vadal or their honorable leadership for being victimized by this casteless scheme. No one doubts Ashok must be dealt with. When a cancerous rot is found a surgeon doesn’t leave it alone and allow it to spread, but rather the disease is excised immediately for the good of the entire body. No one doubts Ashok must pay, and for now he is quarantined, but this underlying sickness must be destroyed. Let us allow the surgeon to do it in the manner that is least likely to kill the patient. Ashok is a symptom. He is not the disease. We would treat this symptom, but the body remains sick…The real disease is the casteless.”

    She’s good. And the Grand Inquisitor wasn’t easily impressed. His allies had chosen wisely.

    “That is not the current topic,” the presiding judge warned.

    “On the contrary, it was a casteless who stole an honor he did not deserve and brought shame to one of the Capitol’s oldest and most prestigious orders. If the Protectors of our Law can be so easily deceived, are we not all vulnerable?”

    Omand glanced over at Devedas to see his reaction to the slander of his order. The Protector was leaning forward on his seat, knuckles pressed to his mouth, bitter, angry, yet apprehensive at the same time. The Protectors were politically vulnerable right now, and Devedas knew it.

    And that is why the Inquisition wears masks.

    “Let us be honest with ourselves. Black Hearted Ashok, no matter how deadly the magic he bears, is but one man, and he has already turned himself in to the authorities. The real danger are the non-people he has inspired. If there were no non-people to riot and disturb the peace, then he would be nothing more than another common criminal, and none of us would care what Vadal decided to do with him. The casteless are an infestation, a plague. They consume our resources and give nothing in return. They’re barely more than wild animals, savage and uncontrollable. I say we have tolerated them long enough.”

    Harta seemed glad for this diversion. “Indeed, they’re foul creatures, but the Law determines the castes. There have always been untouchables, and we’re required to allow them to live.”

    “That was before one of them stole a sacred ancestor blade!” exclaimed a regulator from Harban. Omand smiled behind his mask. That man might have been high status, but he’d been bought and paid for as surely as any slave. Omand had commanded him to agitate on this topic and his timing was impeccable. “Artya speaks with wisdom.”

    “What would you have us do?” shouted another judge from the opposite end of the gallery. “There are millions of them!”

    “Millions of mouths to feed!” responded Omand’s plant. “Kill the locusts and be done with it.”

    “Drive them all into the sea like we did with the demons,” said a woman sitting off to Omand’s side. “Let’s see if they float.”

    “Why not?” Artya asked. “No good comes from the casteless. We’re already allowed some measure of population control and Thakoors can execute them as necessary to maintain order, but why not dispose of them once and for all?”

    Omand carefully studied the council. No one was fool enough to speak up for the lives of the untouchables, but they were still valuable assets, especially in the houses that required vast amounts of manual labor. The Vokkan and Sarnobat delegations seemed angry that the subject had been changed away from harming their powerful neighbor. The rest knew this would go nowhere. The topic of exterminating the untouchables came up every so often, but that was a lot of work.

    “The casteless are property, are they not? If they are property, then why are we not allowed to do with them as we please? The Law wouldn’t require us to keep a pet dog that had turned rabid. Another false prophet has arisen in the south, and his meddling has disrupted the flow of trade. We are all aware of the Law as it stands, but times have changed. We are a nation of industry now, and the casteless are no longer necessary. The lowest of the workers can take on their vital duties.”

    There were a few token representatives of the second and third castes seated in the very back of the Chamber of Argument. Omand carefully studied the workers’ faces. These were wealthy among their kind, but they were ants here. They didn’t look happy at the idea of their people handling sewage, carcasses, and other unpleasant things, but it wasn’t like these particular quality individuals were in any danger of getting their own hands dirty. They’d simply create a new division for their undesirables and obligate them to the work.

    Of far more interest to Omand however, were the faces of the warrior caste’s representatives, and they had sent no fools. Those assigned to observe the Chamber of Argument were usually experienced commanders, crippled in battle and no longer able to fight, but still sharp and not easily riled. They hadn’t grown up playing the game, but they were good at thinking fast and keeping their emotions in check. Exterminating the casteless would be their caste’s responsibility, and it would be a huge undertaking. Omand needed their support, but the warriors just sat there, straight backed, focused and stern. Hard to tell…

    “I officially propose destroying all of the untouchables,” Artya said, advocating the death of millions about as dispassionately as discussing the weather. Several others shouted their agreement, making the proposal official

    “A proposal has been put forward.” The presiding judge hit his staff on the floor. “You raise interesting questions, Arbiter Artya, but there are thousands of pages of regulations pertaining to the mandatory continuation of the casteless bloodlines and the dispensation of property. The committee has not done sufficient research on this point of law to discuss it at this time. We must understand why these regulations exist and if it is open to interpretation or amendment.” The scribes and legal experts sitting in the rows behind the presiding judge began to whisper among themselves. Oh, how they do love a good legal question. “I hereby obligate the Order of Archivists to research this topic and prepare a report.”

    Omand found it satisfying that the judge picked the Archivists and not the Historian Order, but he had made preparations either way. That report would say exactly what he wanted it to say.

    “If it is acceptable to both the offender and the offended, the committee will reconvene on this topic in sixty days.”

    Considering the bloated, ponderous nature of the bureaucracy, Omand would be surprised if they finished their report by then, but Harta and the representative from Akershan were both eager to agree. It bought Vadal more time to figure out how to deal with their shameful prisoner, and Akershan would be delighted to have their rebellion put down once and for all. Once word trickled down through the castes that the Capitol was thinking about cracking down on all the untouchables because of the actions of their violent few, the non-people would silence their own troublemakers as they always did.

    “Idiots,” Devedas muttered to himself.

    “What’s that, Lord Protector?”

    “Nothing.”

    Omand smiled beneath his mask. Surely Devedas was marveling about how soft-palmed bureaucrats could so flippantly discuss slaughter on this scale, when most of them had never even killed their own dinner. Welcome to the Capitol, Lord Protector.

    The meeting was adjourned so all the important people could return to swindling, bribing, coercing, seducing, and blackmailing each other. The Capitol rarely changed. There were minor shifts in the balance of power, and houses came and went, but for hundreds of years things had stayed basically the same. They all knew Artya’s proposal would go nowhere, because extreme changes to the Law damaged their comfortable entropy, and annihilating millions, even if they were wretched non-people, was rather extreme. The wind and sand would erode the city walls away before this august body committed to anything so drastic.

    Unless of course, they had no choice.

    Omand was extremely pleased. The game had gone well for him today.