as your brothers and sisters see it. But I have stopped trying to understand your guilt. I have stopped hoping that you will be anything but what you are. Nonetheless, my acceptance extends only so far. You cannot have everything you desire.”
Vedas regarded Abse, wondering how far he could push the man. He noted the fine lines at the corner of the abbey master’s mouth and eyes, appearing like cracks in porcelain. At times Vedas imagined he could see the sutures of the man’s skull, as if his skin was merely thin veneer over a death mask. The abbey master was an enchanted creature, it was generally agreed, but no one in the order knew just what sort.
For all the mystery, Vedas understood one thing: Abse possessed an odd mind. Even at his warmest, his emotions were never quite believable. Now and then it seemed that a construct stared out from behind his dull eyes, measuring the world in weights and figures instead of souls and personalities. Sectarian battles were mere arguments, a number of triumphs. Deaths were inconveniences, a number of setbacks.
“I represent your best chance for victory at Danoor,” Vedas said. “I demand a wage.”
The memory of Julit Umeda’s death asserted itself again. The hellhound’s jaws closed around her head. The weight of its body carried her to the ground. Vedas banished the vision from his mind, only for it to be replaced by the memory of breaking the hellhound’s neck, knowing that he was too late. Picking the girl’s limp body up, surprised at how heavy she was in his arms. The smell of vomit rising from her shirt.
“Please,” he said.
For a moment the room was silent. Then Abse nodded.
Fate sealed, the tension in Vedas’s shoulders eased fractionally. He would leave the nation of Dareth Hlum. He would travel the length of Knoori to compete in Danoor, representing Golna’s Black Suits in the near-eternal dispute between the Followers of Adrash and the Followers of Man. In the land of his ancestors he would win glory for the orders and converts to the faith, or he would die.
Before leaving, he would visit the parents of Julit Umeda, offering what comfort he could.
BERUN
THE 14 th OF THE MONTH OF SOLDIERS, 12499 MD
THE CITY OF GOLNA, NATION OF DARETH HLUM
T he city of Golna, capitol of Dareth Hlum, was an arid splinter in the easternmost flank of the continent of Knoori. Roughly arrowhead-shaped, its southern and northern shores were bordered by the split end of the river Riolsam, which the residents simply called the Sam. On both shores the privileged had built their private estates, beautiful and airy buildings of imported oilwood and glass, outfitted with private docks below broad balconies on stilts.
The clear waters of the sea some men called Jeru and others called Deathshallow lapped perpetually at the broad eastern beachfront, which the poorest residents called home. Though the shore was undeniably beautiful, beasts had a habit of hauling themselves from the water and terrorizing the citizens along the beach. As a result, the slums’ makeshift defensive wall was forever being repaired.
The majority of Golna’s million souls did not live near the water, however. They had spread over the rocky, dry-shrubbed hill that dominated the island, segregating themselves into ethnic communities of various sizes and economic stature. Eventually, each came to embrace and jealously guard a principal industry.
This is how Butchertown became Butchertown. Everyone trusted a Vunni with a knife, as long as it was poised over a sheep or cow carcass. Theirs was not a prosperous community, but it was safe and clean, and it comprised the
northeast tip of the city. Built into the steep side of the hill, its houses leaned at crazy angles toward the sea. Blood ran in channels into the sea.
Butchertown was famous for its butchers, of course. Its pastush bakeries— the only ones of their kind outside Vunn itself—were also quite renowned. The city’s most attractive prostitutes
Vedas regarded Abse, wondering how far he could push the man. He noted the fine lines at the corner of the abbey master’s mouth and eyes, appearing like cracks in porcelain. At times Vedas imagined he could see the sutures of the man’s skull, as if his skin was merely thin veneer over a death mask. The abbey master was an enchanted creature, it was generally agreed, but no one in the order knew just what sort.
For all the mystery, Vedas understood one thing: Abse possessed an odd mind. Even at his warmest, his emotions were never quite believable. Now and then it seemed that a construct stared out from behind his dull eyes, measuring the world in weights and figures instead of souls and personalities. Sectarian battles were mere arguments, a number of triumphs. Deaths were inconveniences, a number of setbacks.
“I represent your best chance for victory at Danoor,” Vedas said. “I demand a wage.”
The memory of Julit Umeda’s death asserted itself again. The hellhound’s jaws closed around her head. The weight of its body carried her to the ground. Vedas banished the vision from his mind, only for it to be replaced by the memory of breaking the hellhound’s neck, knowing that he was too late. Picking the girl’s limp body up, surprised at how heavy she was in his arms. The smell of vomit rising from her shirt.
“Please,” he said.
For a moment the room was silent. Then Abse nodded.
Fate sealed, the tension in Vedas’s shoulders eased fractionally. He would leave the nation of Dareth Hlum. He would travel the length of Knoori to compete in Danoor, representing Golna’s Black Suits in the near-eternal dispute between the Followers of Adrash and the Followers of Man. In the land of his ancestors he would win glory for the orders and converts to the faith, or he would die.
Before leaving, he would visit the parents of Julit Umeda, offering what comfort he could.
BERUN
THE 14 th OF THE MONTH OF SOLDIERS, 12499 MD
THE CITY OF GOLNA, NATION OF DARETH HLUM
T he city of Golna, capitol of Dareth Hlum, was an arid splinter in the easternmost flank of the continent of Knoori. Roughly arrowhead-shaped, its southern and northern shores were bordered by the split end of the river Riolsam, which the residents simply called the Sam. On both shores the privileged had built their private estates, beautiful and airy buildings of imported oilwood and glass, outfitted with private docks below broad balconies on stilts.
The clear waters of the sea some men called Jeru and others called Deathshallow lapped perpetually at the broad eastern beachfront, which the poorest residents called home. Though the shore was undeniably beautiful, beasts had a habit of hauling themselves from the water and terrorizing the citizens along the beach. As a result, the slums’ makeshift defensive wall was forever being repaired.
The majority of Golna’s million souls did not live near the water, however. They had spread over the rocky, dry-shrubbed hill that dominated the island, segregating themselves into ethnic communities of various sizes and economic stature. Eventually, each came to embrace and jealously guard a principal industry.
This is how Butchertown became Butchertown. Everyone trusted a Vunni with a knife, as long as it was poised over a sheep or cow carcass. Theirs was not a prosperous community, but it was safe and clean, and it comprised the
northeast tip of the city. Built into the steep side of the hill, its houses leaned at crazy angles toward the sea. Blood ran in channels into the sea.
Butchertown was famous for its butchers, of course. Its pastush bakeries— the only ones of their kind outside Vunn itself—were also quite renowned. The city’s most attractive prostitutes
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