Liar's Island: A Novel (28 page)

“Oh dear,” Lais murmured, touching the obelisk. “These symbols are those of a goddess, She Who Guides the Wind and the Waves. This place must have been a temple of hers, but long ago, perhaps during the time of the maharajah, when the jungle was not so thick. See, we're on a hill, and this temple might have had a grand view of the sea, centuries ago. Typical of the Knife in the Dark to pervert a sacred place to their own ends.”

They followed the path through crowding trees, stepping over a brightly colored serpent as thick as Rodrick's calf that Lais said wasn't venomous—“Don't worry, it's a strangler, so keep it off your neck and you'll be fine”—and soon reached the temple proper. Rodrick wasn't sure what to expect—maybe another pagoda, or something like the pyramids he'd glimpsed in Osirion—but this structure was clearly wrought with the help of magic and elementals, though more mundane elements had taken their toll over the years. The place was the size of a manor house, with tall fluted pillars and half a dozen small domes on the roof, all seemingly wrought without any joinings, as if carved from a single immense stone. The walls were decorated with friezes depicting She Who Guides the Winds and the Waves, though they were chipped and worn where they weren't crawling with vines. A once-beautiful temple, falling apart: it really was a fitting site for a gathering of the Knife in the Dark.

The space before the temple was a broad plaza of stone, still more or less level, and filled with milling figures. A round depression in the middle of the courtyard, ten paces across and surrounded by a low wall, had likely once been a fountain or sacred pool of some kind, but now it was just a hole, probably with a scum of brackish water at the bottom.

Most of the cultists were human, and most of the humans were Vudrani as far as Rodrick could tell from what he could glimpse around their masks, but he wasn't the only denizen of the lands around the Inner Sea. There were also some weretigers and a half-orc or two. If there were more rakshasas, they were in disguise. No garudas at all, he noted with satisfaction. He glanced skyward. Dhyana was supposed to be up there, somewhere, among the treetops. He hoped she was, and at the same time hoped they wouldn't need her.

Torches had been lit at the corners of the plaza, and up on a sort of balcony in front of the temple overlooking the crowd—clearly the place where the conclave would be addressed by the archaka, whatever that was. Maybe it was some kind of high priest. Maybe Nagesh himself, if Rodrick's luck was especially bad, and he suspected it was.

It was hard to gauge the moment of sunset in the jungle, but he thought they had a little time yet. “Should we mingle?” he murmured.

“I suppose.” They moved into the crowd, which wasn't so much a group of people mingling as a group of people glaring at one another, with knots of two or three or five people standing with their heads together here and there, murmuring and shooting glances at other groups. Why would you want to join a cult that was, of necessity, so paranoid?

They walked by a long wooden table laden with trays of fruit and pitchers of water and wine, but no one was holding a single cup or eating so much as a grape. Lais started to reach out toward the table, and Rodrick touched the back of her hand and slightly shook his head. The food was probably all poisoned, a little joke that would also weed out any overly trusting followers of Vasaghati.

A small man with pale hands moved past them with a slight nod of greeting, and for a moment Rodrick thought it might be the conjurer Kaleb, but his teeth were differently crooked and there was a cleft in his chin that the pyromancer had lacked.

Rodrick grimaced. The atmosphere of paranoia was thick here, and could easily infect him if he wasn't careful. There were only fifty so people in the plaza, hardly the hundreds he'd feared. The nine or ten cultists who'd fallen to him and his allies already apparently represented a considerable percentage of the total. If this was even a sizable fraction of the entire population of the Knife in the Dark on the island, they were less fearsome than they liked people to believe.

Of course, fifty was a lot of people for two individuals to fight. Even with Hrym and Dhyana in the equation, it was still worse than twelve to one. They had the element of surprise, true … but could you really surprise people who were so primed for betrayal?

The crowd murmured, and someone pointed up to the balcony. Two women dressed in white, with masks of gold cloth, stepped to the rail, looking down on the assembled mass. “The archaka comes! All hail the voice of Vasaghati!”

The response was somewhere between cheers and disgruntled muttering, but that was probably the best that could be hoped for in this crowd. A towering figure emerged from the temple, dressed in black robes, moth-eaten and rotted—a nice touch—and wearing an immense silver medallion bearing the mark of the Knife in the Dark.

He had the head of a snake. It was possible there was
another
snake-headed rakshasa in the cult, but the odds didn't favor it. Rodrick sidled around a bit, until he was somewhat hidden behind a tall half-orc. Lais looked at him questioningly, but he just shook his head and watched the balcony.

“Welcome all,” the rakshasa said, voice smooth. Yes. That was Nagesh. “We gather here for the glory of our goddess, the Decay from Within, the Knife in the Dark, the Poisoned Chalice. This temple, once dedicated to She Who Guides the Wind and the Waves, is a suitable shell for us to inhabit. We must thank one of our sisters below, who heard of this place in lore and suggested it for our meeting.” He gestured, and a woman dressed in drapes of wrapped white cloth—somehow pristine, despite journeying through the jungle—lifted her hand in a wave. The applause was even less enthusiastic this time. This temple was obviously ideal in certain respects for an evil cult meeting, but the cultists would probably have preferred to meet in a place with taverns and brothels and actual beds, instead of the depths of a filthy jungle.

Rodrick didn't pay as much attention to the crowd's reaction as he did to the waving woman, though. Something about her was familiar—the fall of her hair, the way she smiled beneath her mask, amused and thoughtful … Surely he was seeing familiarity where there was none, the way he'd falsely recognized the conjurer Kaleb. The atmosphere here was getting for him.

“But I can't say I much like the decorations,” Nagesh was saying. “Even worn down by time, the wall carvings aren't at all to my taste. We've brought along something more suitable.” He gestured, and the two women flanking him disappeared inside, then returned with a bulky roll of cloth. Nagesh moved out of the way as they fixed the cloth to the railing, then shoved the roll over the side, unfurling a vast tapestry.

The piece was beautifully wrought, displaying a woman seated cross-legged on a heap of skulls, with thorn vines writhing through the eye-holes and mouths, the same vines twisting up to form a border around the tapestry as a whole. The right half of the woman's face was as beautiful and serene as any other goddess, smiling with secret wisdom, but the left half was a grinning pockmarked skull, and the dividing edge of her face ragged and torn, as if the skin were a mask that had been ripped off hastily. Her garments were similar, beautiful cloth of gold on the right, and shredded rags on the left. She wore a medallion marked with the same circle full of lamprey-teeth triangles that Rodrick wore. She had four outstretched arms: one hand held a bloody dagger, and another held a second bloody dagger, and the other two hands also held bloody daggers. Rodrick was beginning to sense a theme.

“Such is the face of the goddess of the Knife in the Dark, which none of us may safely display, except here, in this place, when for a day and a night we can reveal our truth to one another.” Nagesh's voice was kind and companionable, as if each person in the plaza were a personal friend. “We come together today to remind us that though we must often work alone, we are not
truly
alone.” Nagesh put his backward hands on the rail and looked down, his snake's eyes seeming to make contact with every face individually as he spoke. “While our goddess allows us great latitude to pursue our own personal glory, we must remember that we ultimately serve
her
glory, and many of us play small parts in a greater whole. Our work on this island goes well. We are poised to sow chaos throughout the highest levels of the nobility, even unto the thakur himself. Once Jalmeray loses the support of the Impossible Kingdoms and becomes isolated from our ancient enemies there, we will be poised to take over this island entirely. Not openly, but absolutely. Can you imagine, brothers and sisters, if the famed Conservatory that trains courtesans and diplomats were secretly dedicated to Vasaghati? We could send the Knife in the Dark into the palaces of every kingdom in the Inner Sea. Imagine the damage that could be wrought then! The world could be broken in two generations, and we, the puppet masters pulling the springs, could live in glory untold!” He lifted his hands aloft, and this time the crowd
did
roar, their voices joined in exultation at the prospect of such a grim and hopeless future. (Rodrick found the vision grim for obvious reasons, but also because a world of people so untrusting would be a very difficult place for him to make a living. How could you be a confidence trickster if you could never gain anyone's confidence?)

Rodrick made a point of cheering just as loudly as everyone else, and Lais took it up, too, just a half a second too slowly.

“There is one minor point of business,” Nagesh said, voice comparatively low, and the crowd hushed to hear him. “Some of our hunters are out seeking a man named Rodrick, armed with a magical sword. He is an assassin, hired by a member of the Knife in the Dark in the thakur's palace, to kill a high-ranking member of the Maurya-Rahm. This Rodrick proved an incompetent killer, bungling the job and bringing down the wrath of the thakur. He has since fled, we believe to this very jungle.”

Lais turned her head to look at him, eyes wide, and Rodrick gritted his teeth. Nagesh was lying, perhaps because it came to him naturally and perhaps because even the high priest of the Knife in the Dark didn't want the cult to know what his true plans had been … but he wasn't lying as much as Rodrick would have wished. Lais would have questions for him, now, and he'd have to think carefully about how to answer them.

Nagesh went on. “Some of you have doubtless heard rumors about this man. I assure you that he does not realize he served the Knife in the Dark—he believed himself a tool of a rival faction within the government. His existence is a loose end, however, and he
has
killed some of our hunters. I have dispatched a larger force, one sufficient to overwhelm him, and have no doubt they will succeed, yet keep your eyes and ears open. All enemies of the goddess will fall! The Knife in the Dark is eternal!”

More cheers. “Now,” Nagesh said. “Please enjoy the refreshments.” Harsh laughter bubbled in the crowd. “All right, then, in that case, eat what you've brought with you. The priests will send for some of you individually, to discuss your progress with me in the temple, and we will have new instructions for some others, so don't wander off too far—you're likely to be eaten by carnivorous lizards if you do so alone. Later we will have the ritual sacrifice of one of our brothers who failed in his mission last year, and then some chanting, and perhaps our goddess will make a brief appearance—we have prayed for her presence, and may be answered. Some of you were in attendance during her last manifestation, twelve years ago, when she appeared as a mass of poisonous spiders in the shape of a woman and bestowed divine gifts and hideous scourgings at her whim. Even in her absence, remember that I am her chosen one, her voice—her archaka. Until you are summoned or our revels begin, impress one another with your powers of deception. In other words, pretend you're all friends, and have a nice chat.” Nagesh returned inside the temple, accompanied by his handmaidens.

Lais grabbed Rodrick's arm and dragged him toward the refreshments table, the one place on the plaza where there were no mingling knots of cultists. The people they passed were engaged in flattering one another, or simpering, or seducing, apparently taking their archaka's suggestion as law.

“What did he mean, that—that
Rodrick
was hired as an assassin? I thought he was a treasure hunter.”

“This really isn't the place,” Rodrick murmured, watching the crowd. So far none of them were paying any attention to them, but Lais's body language was entirely too agitated. The woman knew nothing of deceit. “They're all distracted, so this would be a good moment for us to strike—”

“Not until I know the truth! I thought you were an innocent, entangled in the Knife in the Dark's plots, but if you're a hired killer taking revenge on your employers, I want no part of you.”

Rodrick laughed, as if she'd said something witty, then leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “Lais, I will answer you, but at least
pretend
we're doing what everyone else is doing, or we'll both be killed. Smile, look embarrassed as if I'm suggesting something improper—well, all right, that's good enough, I suppose. Listen. I'm no assassin. I never kill if I can avoid it, and certainly not for money—there are easier ways to get coin. It's true, I wasn't honest with you, but only because I didn't want you to know I was a fugitive from the thakur—for all I knew, you'd try to turn me in for the reward.”

“I should have,” she said, but at least she smiled as she said it. Though, really, that smile made it worse. Hers was not a face meant for lying.

Rodrick went on. “I was invited—summoned, really—to the thakur's palace. He wanted to buy Hrym from me, to make the sword a gift for a friend of his, a visiting rajah. But then the thakur's advisor Nagesh, who's the snake-headed high priest up there on the balcony, came to me one night and told us that he wanted Hrym to
kill
the rajah, and that if Hrym didn't obey,
I
would be killed. I didn't know it was the Knife in the Dark planning the murder at the time. For all I knew, the thakur was the one who wanted his old friend killed. I tried to come up with a plan to escape the situation, and … well, Nagesh is right about that much. I did bungle it, and people thought I'd tried to kill the thakur.”