Chapter 19: Initiation

Dim images drifted through its mind, scenes that registered only faintly, and aroused no spark of emotional reaction. The cold fresh wind off the sea, the spatter of early spring rain on its bare skin were of no more importance than the squeak of a gray hunting bat, winging its way far overhead toward its Temple roost. It followed unthinkingly the slave ahead of it as they were herded back toward the slave pens for the night, not noticing the man who watched from a sheltering doorway.

"Orzad!" A low voice called out as it walked by. It hesitated, the familiar syllables striking a chord in its sluggish memory. "Orzad, come here!"

It turned and stepped out of the line that closed up behind it. A hooded cloak was thrown about its shoulders, hiding its face from any casual glance. In the fast gathering twilight, nobody noticed that the line of slaves was one short. Who bothered to count slaves?

"In here." It climbed clumsily into the sedan chair, sat uncaring as the curtains were pulled and it was carried off to an unknown destination. Had it been capable of noticing, the noises that filtered in through the side curtains would have told it that it was being carried through one of the poorer sections of town. The creaking of a windlass, turned by silent slaves, marked the location of one of Talai's deep wells, and the cries of a few late peddlers echoed from the walls of narrow streets. A little farther on, the sedan chair lurched as its bearers climbed a few broad steps and the street noises were left behind. Courtyard gates closed behind them, and the only sound was the tinkle of an ornamental fountain.

The sedan chair was lowered to the ground and the curtains were pulled back, letting in torchlight. It followed docilely as it was led through a doorway, down a dusty hall where lighter patches on the walls told of hangings removed and pictures taken down. It stood, neither patiently nor impatiently, as a ritual of challenge and response went on around it.

"Who is this, who has been brought before the Brotherhood?" The voice echoed against the bare walls, the speaker lost in the darkness of the room.

"This is nobody," was the solemn answer. "An empty body, moving only at another's command. Nobody stands before you."

"What person once lived in this body?"

"A man once dwelt in this empty shell."

"What was that man called?"

"His name was Orzad."

"Tell us of this Orzad."

"He was a fierce warrior, and a wise leader of men."

"Tell us of his people."

"A man whose wives bore him many strong sons and daughters." Each voice came from a different part of the room, an antiphonal chant in response to the first voice's challenge.

"We have been brought together to call this man, Orzad, back to dwell once more in this empty body. If we succeed, who will stand surety for him? Who will guarantee his loyalty to the Brotherhood of Blood?"

"I, Shantar, will stand surety for him. My life for his life. My blood to bind him to our Brotherhood."

"And I!" "Me, too!" A chorus of eager voices added their endorsement to Shantar's.

"One is enough. Lead this shell that once was Orzad forward, and command it to hold out its arm."

It was led forward to where a brazier of glowing coals cast a ruddy light into its blank face. Across the table, two cowled figures studied it intently. A black gloved hand passed a tiny jeweled dagger through the heat of the coals, and cut a gash in the skin of its arm. Another arm, similarly gashed, was held to his, their blood mingling in a ritual of brotherhood. From someplace far away in time and space, it became aware of a burning, tingling sensation in its arm, aware of sparks of living fire that raced through its veins, aware of the faces before it and the room around it! It was aware! HE WAS AWARE!"

"Welcome to the Brotherhood of Blood!" Shantar's strong voice boomed in the bare room. "Welcome back to Life!"

"How long..." Orzad's voice sounded rusty in his ears, as though from long disuse, and choked with emotion. "How long has it been? How long have I been like this?"

"A few ten days only," Shantar replied. "We are gathering our forces slowly and carefully, a few here and a few there. Sholim must not guess until it is too late. When we are ready the Brotherhood shall strike, and strike hard. Rest, now, and we shall speak more of this later."

Several other slaves were released from their drugged trance, and it was near midnight when the ceremonies ended. The new members of the Brotherhood were led swiftly and silently away through secret ways, and at last Orzad sat quietly with Shantar and Chinzel in an inner room, sipping cups of hot sweet tea.

"And my people?" Orzad's voices was steady, but his eyes betrayed his fears. "What of my people in their villages?"

"We have sent messengers to them, but there have been no answers as yet," Shantar answered. "We should hear from them soon, though."

"Our spies among Sholim's forces have heard nothing of any moves being planned against the Hill villages," Chinzel added. "I'm sure that we would hear about it if they ready any move against your people."

"I hope that you are right." Orzad shook his head, as though to clear his still mazed thoughts. "It still seems like a bad dream. I was fighting, and then... there are only bits and pieces of what happened while I was... was... Ahh! How I would like to feel Sholim's scrawny neck between my two hands. My only fear is that another may reach him first!"

He sipped at his tea for a long moment, thinking dark thoughts that molded his round yellow face into the mask of an avenging demon. At last he roused himself, setting his empty mug down with a decisive thump.

"How do you plan to overthrow Sholim? Has he set up a puppet ruler, and how is he treating the people of Talai?"

"We have no good plan," Shantar answered ruefully. "That was one of the reasons we have been hunting so hard for you. We have the core of the force we need, here in our Brotherhood of Blood. We also have the Princess Ashaia where we can quickly bring her back as a symbol for the people of Kath to rally around. We've been working through the Thieves Guild, but they're beginning to run short of funds. Sholim has set himself up as Priest Emperor, holding court with much pomp and ceremony in the RoyalPalace while the Temple of Kathool is being rebuilt. He is also creating new nobles to replace those he has 'sent under the sea'. Other than those, and a few rich merchants who might have caused trouble, he has left the upper crust pretty much alone, just imposing some new taxes to help support his army."