“I have not destroyed Ashai. Caydean is destroying Ashai. I am the sole unifying force against the tyrant.”
Farson stared at Rezkin. After skipping a few breaths, he finally said, “You are right. As frightening as it is, you are right. But I know that was not your intention at the time, and you have unified the worst of the kingdom. You threaten to overrun all that is good with your terror pitted against the king’s forces—which, if you intend to actually be king of Ashai, are your own people.”
“I realize that, and I have been taking steps to avoid killing as many as possible. You should know better than anyone that I am not a bloodthirsty monster. Rule 2 is to kill with conscience. I have decided that it means preserving the lives of those with the most potential and destroying those who threaten my plans.”
Farson growled his frustration. “First of all, conscience is not a logical expression of useful supplies and personnel. Second, that is not Rule 2. The rule is supposed to be kill without conscience. You were meant to be an assassin, Rez.”
Rezkin turned to the Jeng’ri. “Do you have a conscience?”
Xa grinned. “I think that I do; however, I tend to ignore it. It is a poor guide in my profession—and yours.”
Rezkin considered the new information. Rule 2 did make more sense Farson’s way. He wondered why Kai had not corrected him when they had discussed the rules. Kai wanted Rezkin to be a king, not an assassin. Perhaps it made more sense for a king to kill with conscience.
He met Farson’s gaze and said, “I am no longer the king’s assassin. For as long as this war lasts, I must be king. I prefer my version of Rule 2. A king is supposed to lead and protect his people. It is better for him to have a conscience. Do you not agree?”
“You do not even understand what that means.”
“I have inquired on the subject. Journeyman Wesson has provided the most useful assistance. He recited a poem given to him by his master. It said:
My conscience is my guiding light,
And knowledge of my dark within,
To know my place from wrong or right,
And struggle in the places dim.
When questions knock and chances stalk,
My mind is made and spare routes fade,
So thee and I and they and them,
And most in all the world do win.
“I endeavor to understand the author’s meaning. Journeyman Wesson told me that it has been essential to him in understanding the nature of his power.”
“You speak of a battle mage who spurns his affinity,” said Farson. “With all that you have done and intend to do, you expect me to believe that you desire to be a man of conscience?”
Xa studied Rezkin. “Perhaps the Riel’gesh can afford to have a conscience.”
Rezkin looked back to Farson. “You should know me better than that. Desires are unaffordable weaknesses. I do not have to possess a conscience to abide by one. Ashai needs a new king, and a king needs a conscience.” His gaze snapped to the Jeng’ri. “When not acting as king, I do not require one. Now, tell me what is in that trunk,” he said, pointing toward a large, green trunk with brass hasps and clamps.
Xa glanced toward the trunk—one Rezkin had not yet opened. “How should I know?”
“It was warded by you.”
“What makes you think that? Several are aboard who are capable of creating that ward.”
“I can feel that it is your ward,” Rezkin said. “Now, tell me what is in the trunk before I search it.”
Xa glanced at the trunk again and then returned his gaze to Rezkin. “You can break the ward?”
Rezkin advanced on the trunk, knowing the Jeng’ri would not answer. People insisted on following him, yet they continued to defy his orders. Some were too useful to dispose of for minor offenses, but he would make them understand that their disobedience had consequences. Having already checked for traps on the trunk’s exterior, he prepared for whatever lurked within. It was an average trunk, with a good lock, but unadorned. He reached through Xa’s ward, maintaining his focus and forcing it to bend around him.
Xa glanced at Farson. “How does he do that? I sense no interference.”
Farson said, “I do not bear the talent, but his ability to negate others’ has always been disturbing to those who are blessed.”
“He does not negate it. He is capable of touching it, of grappling and using it for his own purposes.”
“You should keep that in mind and consider it a warning,” said Farson.
Rezkin touched the box and was suddenly filled with both foreboding and urgency. He picked the lock and then looked back at Xa. The assassin was attempting to ease his way around Farson to reach the door, and from the striker’s lack of interest and the mage power Rezkin felt slip over his skin, he figured the Jeng’ri had cast a spell to prevent them from noticing his movements.
Rezkin returned his gaze to the trunk as he said, “Xa, you had best stay where you are. Farson—to your left.”
The striker snapped his arm out and smacked the Jeng’ri back a few paces. Xa stared at Farson with genuine surprise as he recovered.
“You are faster than I expected.”
Farson grunted. With a nod toward Rezkin, he said, “I have had years of conditioning to catch him.”
Rezkin stood to one side of the trunk and glanced at Xa, hoping for some sign of what it might contain. With his heart pumping and the battle energy surging through him, he threw the lid open. He was immediately struck with … confusion. He looked at the Jeng’ri.
“Fish?”
Xa and Farson both watched him in puzzlement.
“What?” said Xa.
“You brought aboard a warded trunk filled with fish?”
Xa appeared truly perplexed for the briefest moment, and then he smiled. “Of course. I get hungry.”
Rezkin returned his gaze to the trunk’s fishy contents. The slippery, silver mackerel were flopping in a mound, with wide, beady eyes, and mouths gulping frantically. They were the noisiest fish he had ever heard. The trunk, however, contained no water in which to keep them alive.
Farson closed the distance so that he could peer into the trunk. He screwed up his face in frustration and looked at Rezkin. “You said they were fish. For what purpose would you attempt to deceive me? Is this a setup?”
Rezkin met the striker’s angry glare. “What are you talking about? They are fish.”
Farson narrowed his eyes and then turned his dubious gaze on Xa. He said, “I see a trunk full of birds. The small yellow ones that sing.”
Rezkin also looked at Xa. “An illusion, then. What is it hiding?”
Xa spread his hands and shrugged. “I cannot make illusions.”
Farson grabbed a dangling rope for support and drew his sword. The song of steel rang through the air over the flopping of fish.
“What are you doing?” Rezkin said.
“The illusion may be hiding a trap. You stand back, and I will see if I can spring it.”
“By stabbing it?”
They both took a step back as the sounds from the trunk intensified.
“I have never heard birds make so much noise,” Farson hollered over the din.
“And only after you threatened to stab into it,” Rezkin said. He looked back to Xa. “Tell me now!”
Xa said, “I cannot. I am under oath. But, I would not suggest stabbing it.”
The roar grew again, and Rezkin decided that either the illusion or whatever it concealed did not like being threatened. To Farson, he said, “Retrieve Journeyman Wesson.”
Farson said, “Can you not break through it as you do the wards?”
“Perhaps, but I have never had the opportunity to break an illusion. What if I destroy whatever it is hiding?”
The cacophony rose once more, and Farson glared at Xa before departing the room. A few minutes later, he returned with the battle mage in tow.
Rezkin motioned to the trunk and said, “Journeyman, please do something about this.”
Wesson’s eyes widened as he peered into the trunk. “Puppies? Where did you get wolf pups, and what have you done to make them so upset?”
“I see fish. Farson sees birds. It is an illusion.”