The Third Soul Omnibus Two Read online

  “I know not,” said Raelum.

  “We have offended the Divine!” shrieked an old woman, her face stained with tears. “Kill the demon! Kill it, and maybe the Divine will forgive us!”

  “Aye!” roared the surviving villagers, “kill the demon!”

  “No!” yelled Terrick, waving his hands. “Hold! He will kill us all. Hold!”

  Raelum lifted his sword. He did not want to harm these people, but if they rushed him…

  “Get gone from here, demon!” said the old woman. The other villagers chorused their agreement.

  “I will go,” said Raelum, disgusted. “But tell me one more thing. Do you know of a monastery called St. Tarill?”

  “Aye,” said Terrick. “What of it?”

  “Where does it lie?” said Raelum. “How far from here?”

  Terrick hesitated. “Southwards, on the far side of the river…”

  “Do not lie to me!” hissed Raelum, slamming his sword into the ground. “I came from the south. Now, tell me where the monastery is. The Adept will kill everyone there unless I stop him first.”

  “To the northeast, perhaps two days’ walk,” said Terrick. “Simply follow the road.”

  “Very well,” said Raelum. He waved his sword over the carnage. “Make sure these bodies are beheaded.”

  “Aye,” said Terrick, “we know how to keep the dead from rising, and need not some false Paladin to tell us.”

  “Indeed?” said Raelum. “Your folk seem to have done a fine job of defending themselves. Have you enough food, or shelter from the cold?”

  “The fire didn’t reach the barns,” said Terrick, “and the Northmen stole neither food nor cattle. The Temple is mostly intact. We will shelter there.” He shrugged. “Though I believe Karrent will die. Most of the men are dead, and many of our children are taken. Will we able to rebuild? I know not.” He stared at the ruins and sighed. “I know not.”

  “Trust in the Divine,” said Raelum. “Perhaps it is his will that your village shall rise again.”

  “What do we care for the Divine?” said Terrick. “He has abandoned us. Leave now, or kill us all, I care not, but I weary of speaking with you.”

  Raelum stopped long enough to wipe his sword clean on a dead Northman’s cloak. The Northman also bore a fine round shield with a gleaming steel boss. Raelum scooped it up, tucked it under his good arm, and limped out of Karrent.

  His head ached, pain crept into his numbed arm, and a dagger of agony shot in his chest every time he drew breath. He hoped he didn’t pass out before he got to his horse.

  Fortune stood tied to the tree, watching him placidly. Raelum leaned his forehead against the horse’s flank, panting. Marsile was not far ahead, and Raelum had to reach St. Tarill before him. Suppose Marsile slaughtered the monks of St. Tarill, as he had done at St. Arik? A bolt of excruciating pain shot through Raelum’s side, and he had to grip Fortune’s mane to keep from toppling.

  He could not go any further without rest. Raelum slid his sword into its scabbard and undid one of the bundles on Fortune’s back. Thank the Divine he had had the foresight to pack firewood. He piled the wood, got a small fire going, and collapsed besides it.

  Raelum wrapped his cloak about him and reached for the Light. It filled him with soothing warmth, his skin itching as the torn edges of his wounds began to flow back together.

  They always scorned him, always thought him a devil or worse. It had always been that way, even in Khauldun.

  Raelum feel asleep and dreamed.

  Chapter 9 - The Orphanage

  “You are,” said Black Kaheen, leaning against the wall of his warehouse, “a stinking little rat.” He produced a dagger and began cleaning his nails. “Moreover, you’re probably possessed by a demon. No doubt I have put my admittedly tarnished immortal soul in dire peril simply by speaking with you.”

  Raelum rolled his eyes. He produced a small bag and set it the table.

  Black Kaheen had become much more prosperous in the last four years, aided greatly by Raelum’s exploits, and now sported ostentatious jewelry. “Well, what have you for me today?”

  “Open the bag and see, old man,” said Raelum.

  Black Kaheen looked wounded. “Ha! I am hardly old, rat.” He upended the bag.

  A golden brooch clattered against the table, set with rubies the color of blood. Black Kaheen’s dark eyes widened.

  “Is that,” he said, “the brooch of the Emir Sirtan?”

  “Aye,” said Raelum. “Snatched from his strongbox while he slept.”

  “It cannot be,” said Black Kaheen. “It must be a fake.” He lifted the brooch. “Feels heavy enough. Lead, most likely, with gold foil.”

  “Nay,” said Raelum, “it is the brooch.”

  “There’s no way you could have snatched it from Sirtan’s palace,” said Black Kaheen. “His gate is six inches thick and barred from within.”

  “I entered through the sewers.”

  “A dozen guards patrol his halls at night.”

  “Not when their wine is drugged.”

  “Wild beasts roam his gardens, savage and bloodthirsty.”

  “Not after they’ve been fed with raw beef stolen from the butchers’ market.”

  “The Emir is ever watchful and fearful.”

  “Not when he’s closeted with his harem.”

  Black Kaheen almost looked impressed. “How long have you been planning this?”

  “The better part of a year,” said Raelum.

  “This is beyond price,” said Black Kaheen, hefting the brooch. “This is the symbol of Sirtan’s house, has been passed down from father to son for centuries. I know a dozen emirs who will pay well to have it just for the pleasure of humiliating Sirtan. You’ve done well, boy.”

  Raelum lifted up a larger sack. “While I was there, I helped myself to some of his harem’s jewelry. Sirtan prefers they wear nothing at all when he visits them.” He emptied the sack. A small pile of jewels and pearls cascaded across the table.

  Black Kaheen’s eyes got even wider.

  “Well?” said Raelum. “Has age robbed you of speech?”

  “Were you anyone else, boy, I’d kill you for that,” said Black Kaheen. He sorted the treasure into a little pile, cackling. “You are a red-eyed little devil. But by the Divine, I’m amazed. All this! And you cannot be more than twelve.” Black Kaheen shook his head. “When I was your age, I was snatching fruit from peddlers’ stands and cutting the purses of petty merchants.” He picked up a delicate golden bracelet. “Of course, these are gold and jewels, not food, so I’ll take my two-thirds cut.”

  “Aye,” said Raelum.

  “Though with all this, there’s still a good sum left for you,” said Black Kaheen.

  “Assuming you don’t cheat me out of it,” said Raelum.

  “Cheat? Me?” said Black Kaheen. “That would violate the thieves’ law!”

  Raelum laughed. “You’d cheat me, given half the chance. So I’ll watch you closely.”

  Black Kaheen shook his head. “You’re a clever rat. Must be the demon in you.” He rubbed his beard. “You’ll outlast me, I think. You’ll be King of the Thieves one day. Aye, you’ll rule the underworld. Appropriate enough, for a demon.”

  Raelum retrieved his cloak. “Get a good price for it, or else I’ll have to drag you to hell with me.”

  Black Kaheen snorted.

  Raelum wrapped himself in his black cloak and vanished into Khauldun’s night.

  In some parts of the city, the wealthier districts of Legate’s Hill, Temple Square, and Factors’ Market, a stately silence fell after dark, broken only by the steady tread of watchmen. Night did not bring silence to the slums. The sounds of carousing came from the taverns and whorehouses, screams pierced the shadows, and cloaked men moved through the streets, faces hidden beneath their cowls. Raelum prowled through the night like a shadow, unseen and unnoticed.

  Someday, he thought, he would be rich enough to walk the streets openly, demonborn or not.
Someday he would have wealth enough to change things. He looked at the gleaming mansions of Legate’s Hill and spat. Someday he would make the great merchants and the slavers and the emirs pay, make them pay for all the misery they had inflicted upon the people.

  Someday, he would set things right.

  But, for now, he wanted to look at the ocean. He liked to look at the ocean at night, when the moon and the stars reflected off the waters. It became a rippling sheen of light, clear and clean, a contrast to Khauldun’s filthy squalor.

  “Boy.”

  A hulking man stepped from a doorway, clad in a leather jerkin and a stained cloak. His pale face seemed like loose dough beneath his greasy red hair, save for a livid crimson birthmark across his jaw.

  “So you’re Kaheen’s pet demon,” rasped the fat man.

  Raelum said nothing, hand resting on his dagger hilt.

  The fat man laughed. “You know who I am, boy?”

  “Aye,” said Raelum. “You’re Red Philip.”

  Black Kaheen’s gang controlled the Factors’ Market and the surrounding neighborhoods, but Red Philip’s band dominated most of the slums. The two men loathed each other. Black Kaheen made a point to steal from rich merchants and wealthy lords. The profits, he claimed, were greater, and Raelum agreed. Red Philip made his money by terrorizing and extorting the slums. Not a day passed without a corpse appearing in the gutters, a victim of Red Philip’s enforcers. Some of the dead were never found, and rose again as ghouls. Raelum stole from the rich without guilt. What had they done deserve their opulence? Yet Red Philip preyed upon those too powerless to fight back.

  “What do you want?” said Raelum.

  “What do I want?” said Red Philip. “What do you want? Is Black Kaheen treating you well?”

  “Black Kaheen’s a lying villain,” said Raelum, “but I’ve no quarrel with him.”

  “I could pay you more,” said Red Philip. He smiled. “You’ve skill, my lad, and I’ve always a need for lads with skill.”

  Raelum said nothing.

  “There’s work to be done,” said Red Philip, “and I’ll be rich before it’s over. You can be, too, lad. You could be the greatest thief the slums have ever seen. Come work for me, and we’ll rule this city. We’ll be kings over the thieves, you and I.”

  “No,” said Raelum.

  Red Philip’s smile twitched into angry irritation. “Why not?”

  “Because of what you do,” said Raelum. “We steal from the rich. You steal from the slum folk.”

  “And why not?” said Red Philip. “It’s easier.”

  “Because,” said Raelum, thinking hard, “it’s not right.”

  “Not right?” spat Red Philip, eyes flashing. “What are you, a Brother of the Temple? The people in the slums are cattle. Sheep. We’re the wolves. If they were wolves, they wouldn’t let us prey on them. They’re sheep, and I can do what I wish to them.”

  “No,” said Raelum. “You can’t. I won’t for work for you.”

  “Fool boy,” said Red Philip. “You’ll regret this one day, I promise you.” He left without another word.

  Raelum stared into the darkness, simmering with anger. He no longer wanted to look at the ocean. He wanted to go into Red Philip’s slums and make trouble. Black Kaheen would have a fit. Or maybe Black Kaheen would approve; he hated Red Philip. Either way, Raelum just had to make sure he didn’t get caught.

  He prowled through the slums, seeking. Red Philip’s enforcers often went on rampages in the night.

  It did not take Raelum long to find his quarry. Towards the southern end of the docks sat a sprawling house. Centuries ago, it had been the seaside retreat of a wealthy merchant. As Khauldun had grown, the slums had devoured the house, and its denizens moved to Legate’s Hill. Now the house was half a ruin. Most of the white marble facing had been stolen, revealing walls of raw brick. A slender woman in a white robe with a black headdress stood in the doorway.

  Around her stood four burly men with cudgels. They wore ragged red bands on their left arms, marking them as Red Philip’s men.

  “I’ve told you, we’ve no food left,” said the woman, clutching her lantern. Her accent sounded Callian, and her robes marked her as a sworn Sister of the Temple. “Demand all you want, but I’ve nothing left to give you.”

  “That so, Sister?” said a thug. “Well, you’re in Red Philip’s domain, and you’d best pay for Red Philip’s protection. Else something bad might happen.”

  “There’s nothing left to pay you,” said the woman.

  “You could always give us one of your rats,” said the thug. The woman stiffened. “You’ve got dozens. Who’ll miss one?”

  “I would miss one,” said the woman. Raelum circled into the shadows and began gathering up bricks that had fallen from the crumbling house. “I will not hand any of these children to of those vile slavers.”

  The thugs laughed. “Sister, you’ve got no choice in the matter…”

  Raelum let fly with a brick. It cracked into the nearest thug’s temple. The man bellowed and fell to one knee, clutching his head. Raelum flung two more bricks, catching one thug in the forehead and another in the neck.

  “What’s this?” roared a thug. “You hire other protection?”

  “I don’t know what’s going on,” said the woman, peering into the shadows.

  “Find them!” bellowed the lead thug, brandishing his cudgel, “find them and…gah!” Raelum’s next brick caught the thug in the mouth. Teeth and blood fell to the ground.

  “Damnation!” spat the thug. “We’ll be back!” They fled and vanished into the shadows. The Sister peered into the darkness, swinging her lantern back and forth. Raelum knew he should just leave. Instead he slipped across the street.

  The Sister flinched as he stepped from the shadows.

  “Who are you?” said Raelum. She looked quite pretty, with wide green eyes, dark hair, and a slender face. Raelum wondered why the thugs hadn’t raped her. Perhaps they had some fear of the Divine.

  “Sister Julietta of the Temple,” said the woman. “And this is the convent and the orphanage of the Temple. A convent of sorts, anyway, as I am the only Sister here. You threw those bricks, didn’t you?”

  Raelum nodded.

  “Why?”

  Raelum thought about it for a bit. “Because I could.”

  “You’re just a boy.”

  “I’ve seen twelve summers. I’m almost a man.”

  “I see,” she said. “So you are with a rival gang, then?”

  “Aye,” said Raelum.

  “Why don’t you stay here, instead?” said Sister Julietta. “You need not dwell on the streets.”

  “And stay here and starve?” said Raelum. “I can survive on the streets. Here I would become soft and weak.”

  “Will you come inside for a few moments, then?” said Sister Julietta. “I can give you something to eat.”

  “You said you had no food left,” said Raelum.

  “I lied,” said Sister Julietta. “It is a sin to lie, of course, but it would have been a greater sin to take the children’s food and give it to those villains.”

  “That was foolish,” said Raelum. “Red Philip will kill you if he finds out.”

  “We all must die,” said Sister Julietta. “Won’t you come in?”

  Raelum hesitated. If he stepped forward, she would see his eyes. For some reason, he didn’t want her to hate him. Raelum took a deep breath and moved closer.

  Sister Julietta stared at him for a moment.

  “Your eyes,” she said at last. “Do you know why they’re red?”

  Raelum shrugged. “My mother was possessed when she carried me. I don’t have a demon, but I can sense when they’re near.” It had proven useful more than once when ghouls slipped into the streets of Khauldun.

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Sister Julietta. “Come with me.”

  Raelum stood frozen with astonishment for a moment, then followed her into the house. Why hadn’t she fled fr
om him?

  “Quiet,” whispered Sister Julietta, “the children are sleeping.”

  Rows of pallets lined the hall, and atop each pallet lay a small child, no more than four or five years of age. Some pallets even held infants. A few elderly women lay sleeping in the corner. Another old woman, wrapped in a black shawl, moved up and down the rows of pallets, watching the children.

  “I thought you said there were no other sisters,” said Raelum. He pulled his cowl up, lest the old women see his eyes.

  “Shh,” said Julietta. She beckoned him through a door, and Raelum followed her into a large kitchen. “There are none here. Those women are widows and have nowhere else to go. They stay here and help take care of the children. Together we try to live as best we can.” She reached into a cupboard and took out a slice of hard bread and a piece of dried fruit. “Here, young sir. Eat well. You never did tell me your name.”

  Raelum hesitated, then took the food. “Raelum.” He ate with a will. “Why do you take care of the children?”

  Julietta shrugged. “It is my mission, my calling. And no one else will. It is…necessary. These are children whose parents have been kidnapped by slavers, or the children of whores, or children who were unwanted and left to die in the streets. I have made it known that whenever such children are found, they may be brought here.” She shivered. “Better this than that they die forgotten. Have you ever seen a dead child possessed by a demon, Raelum?”

  Raelum shook his head.

  “It is a terrible thing,” said Julietta. “And this city is so full of evil. The princes of Legate’s Hill could feed everyone in the slums. Yet the orphanage of the Temple must scrape by on whatever scraps they see fit to hand out. I suppose I am terribly selfish. I take in the children because it makes me happy to do so. I help the children because there is evil in the city, and that is what I must do to oppose it.”

  Raelum almost choked on a mouthful of bread. Sister Julietta had said what Raelum had been unable to find the words to say to Red Philip. “I…I think I understand. Have you much food here?”

  “Never enough,” said Julietta. “The merchants of Factors’ Market sometimes donate their leftovers, but they are often rotten.” She shrugged. “We do not starve, but we are often hungry.”