"Well, the long and short of it was that Marik agreed to the bargain and signed away the life of his firstborn child in blood. The ritual was set for that very night at moonrise." Jamie wrapped both his hands around his tankard and stared into its depths, and his voice dropped to a rough murmur. "We talked for a while about what to do. She had the start of a plan, and together we worked out the details. When all was set, I—I offered her my services." He swallowed hard. "As assassin. I asked her if she wanted me to kill them. I had not killed in more than three years, and the very thought made my gorge rise up to choke me, but if she needed me to..."
I sat frozen, my throat thick with dread. For me, no matter what came after, this was the center of all Jamie's telling. I could not breathe. I had to know. And below dread, below thought, deep in the center of my soul, I prayed faster and harder than ever I had before. Blessed Lady, Mother Shia, please, please let it be that my mother did not ask Jamie to kill for her…
A tiny corner of his mouth lifted, he glanced at me, and I breathed again. .
"She took me by the shoulders and turned me to face her. 'Jameth of Arinoc,' she says, solemn as judgement, 'rather would I cut off my own arm. If you have forgotten, I haven't. I may be fool enough to take a dark soul like Marik as a lover, but while I live you are the man I care most about in the world.' "
I saw the tears slip down his cheeks, this man who was farmer and assassin and all but father to me, and I knew that he remembered those words as if she stood before him and spoke them fresh at the very moment, and that they were all he had of her to remember.
"I believed her, though I could see her own words shocked her. And me. 'I swear to you, Jamie,' she says; 'if either of us has to kill anyone it will be only to save our own skins.'
"We waited until just after moonrise; then she led me through the house to the secret passage. I was dressed in my old uniform, a kind of mottled black tunic of silk with no clean edges. I left her halfway down the passage, as we'd agreed, and crept on to the room at the end. There was a little light only a few candles—but it was enough. I waited at the corner some few minutes, listening, until I guessed they were too interested in what they were doing to notice me. I peered round the wall just as the voice I assumed was Berys rose high and loud in a kind of incantation. Just as I looked round the light changed, from dim candlelight to a bright red glow, and I heard a hissing voice like nothing I'd ever imagined.
"There, above the small altar between Berys and—Marik, a figure of nightmare hovered in the air above glowing red coals, and it was much the same colour. It didn't take much to guess that it must be one of the Rakshasa, a demon from the Seven Hells. I'd only ever come across the Rikti, the minor demons, on one of my jobs—it was a pleasure taking out that demon caller—but this was its older cousin, and a foul, fierce thing it was. The voice made my skin crawl.
"That was a bad moment, because even if the men couldn't see me the demon sure as all Hells could." He smiled grimly. "I had forgotten the nature of the things. They don't give away spit. It probably hoped I was there to kill them, which would leave it free to go. In any case, it never even hinted to them that I was there.
"I don't remember what they said—there was a lot of bickering, threats, and empty posturing on both sides. I remember Marik's voice swearing his firstborn child to Berys, though, and Berys saying it was time for the blood sacrifice. I didn't think much of it until I heard a small sound, startling in that place. Even in those days I knew the sound of a waking infant when I heard it.
"It took me a few seconds to understand that they were going to kill some poor, nameless child then and there and give its blood to the demon for the making of this Farseer.
"You must understand, Lanen, that all the while I was watching and listening, I was planning when and where to strike. All those years of killing left me with a good sound sense of survival and strategy." He frowned. "I wish I could say my first impulse was to rush in and try to save the child. I thought about it, but I knew that the best that could happen was that I would be killed myself and do Maran and the child no good. Maran and I had decided it would be best to take the Farseer once it was made, and I knew I had to keep to the plan:" He lifted the tankard before him, which he had ignored for some while, and drank deep.
"I watched it all, Lanen," said Jamie, his voice deep with old sorrow. "Berys chanting, the child crying louder and louder, screaming in fear and pain, then suddenly, horribly silent. I moved no muscle, invisible in the shadows that hid me at the back of the room, but I swore revenge for that babe as it died.
"Then Berys told Marik that he would have to give of his own blood to seal the spell. The craven bastard yelled near as loud as the child had, and cursed Berys through his teeth when his arm was opened to let the blood. I began to slip my dagger from my boot. A poignard would have killed, but somehow, in the face of that evil, the thought of giving more death to that creature made me sick. My hands were stained enough as it was.'
"There was a loud hiss as Berys poured the mingled blood of Marik and the babe over the hot coals, and the voice of the demon slithered through the air. 'It iss done, Masster. Behold that which you dessire.' There was a globe on the altar now, of what looked like smoky glass, about the size of a small melon.
" 'It is done, slave,' says Berys, calm as could be. 'Begone to the Fourth Circle of Hell that spawned you, but know that if this is not the true Farseer I will have claim to your miserable hide for a year and a day.' .
" 'Ssso bee itt,' the thing hissed; and with a loud pop it disappeared. Then Marik grabs up the globe and says, 'Show me the head of the Merchant Bouse of Hovir.' I couldn't see exactly what was happening, but from his expression the thing worked well enough. With that kind of power Marik would quickly rise to lead the Merchant Houses. At least.
"I felt my jaw draw tight as my body set itself for an attack. All of Kolmar's trade ruled by demons? Not if I had word to say about it.
" 'Do you accept this Farseer and seal our pact?' asked Berys, calm as if he was asking about the weather. Marik should have seen it coming. Idiot.
" 'Yes. I will take this in exchange for the life of my first child, whensoever it might be born,' replied Marik, staring into the depths of the thing like a man in a daze.
"Then Berys laughed, and it was a terrible sound. 'It is done! Fool! Could you imagine the road to power so swift and simple? Ere ever you sought me, ere ever you were born or named, a prophet of our brotherhood knew this would come to pass. For his pact with the Lords of the Hells he was given visions of endings and beginnings, and for the four Kingdoms he prophesied:
" 'When the breach is healed at last—
when the two are joined in one—
when the lost ones from the past
live and move in light of sun,
Marik of Gundar's blood and bone
shall rule all four in one alone.'
" 'What is this gibberish?' snarled Marik. 'My blood and bone are within my body. You are the fool, Berys, it is simple enough to ensure that I never have issue. Then I shall rule Kolmar, I, Marik of Gundar!'
"Berys never moved, and his voice went cold and calm. No, Your destiny is merely to bring into being the child who will rule all of Kolmar—and now the child is mine!'
"I had heard enough. I spoke low but loud, to shock them and alert Maran. 'Now.'
"I threw myself at Berys, but I might have saved myself the trouble. Somehow I’d have thought a master of the Fifth Circle—there are only seven—would have safeguards against just this sort of thing, but the luck was with me. I can only guess he couldn't have summoned the Raksha with his guard about him. A few cuts that wouldn't kill him to get him into position, one deep wound to keep him down, and that was it.