darkened blade_ A fallen blade novel - Kelly McCullough Page 0,121

took a left then, as I tried to think of how to express my feelings. Here, try this: What would you have thought if I had suggested we poison everyone at a state banquet as a way to reach Ashvik? There are slow acting poisons that we could have used to do just that, things that would have gotten past his tasters because they wouldn’t have taken effect for days or weeks.

That’s monstrous, Aral! You would never have done such a thing.

What if it was the only way to ghost him? He killed thousands of his own subjects including his own sons, and tens of thousands more in Kadesh. If we hadn’t killed him, it would only have gotten worse. Isn’t stopping that worth the price of a few dozen courtiers? People who supported Ashvik in his madness and profited from it? Really, how many true innocents dined with the man on any regular basis?

I don’t think the situation with the Son of Heaven is the same, though I can’t quite explain why.

We turned left again.

But it is the same, I replied. In fact, it’s worse. The only way to kill the Son of Heaven is to do something that will kill an awful lot of other people as well. And, unlike that banquet scenario, a lot of the people who die will be genuine innocents, guilty of nothing more than being in the wrong place at the wrong time. That’s what starting a war does, Triss. You can tell yourself that not starting it will result in worse evil, and maybe you’re even right, but it won’t bring a single one of those innocents back.

But you can’t know that this will start a war, can you?

Maybe not, but I believe that it will. So did Toragana, and the Lady of Leivas. For that matter, I think that was the true message of the goddess in my dream, that I must always be aware of the costs of my actions, that justice isn’t just a matter of guilt and innocence, but also a question of weighing the benefits and the price. Independent of the innocent deaths I believe it will bring, slaying the Son of Heaven is clearly just. When you bring in the cost though . . . I don’t know the answer, but I still have to make the choice and accept the consequences.

I . . . Oh, Aral.

The initial evil may be the Son of Heaven’s fault, but I won’t . . . can’t use that to excuse my own actions. Not without losing my moral core. Not without becoming a monster myself. I may have to kill him, but I won’t look away from what that means.

Before Triss could respond, Kelos called back, “The first gate is right around this next bend. Give me the key so I can open it.”

At that point we had passed three openings on the right and one on the left in this section, and while I thought I could have found my way out on my own if I needed to, I wouldn’t have bet my life on it. The place really was a maze—chock full of twisty passages with nothing to distinguish one from another.

“I think I’d rather open it myself.” I slipped past Kelos to look through the arch.

“Fine by me,” said Kelos, “though it’d be quicker for me to carry it if I’m going to lead.”

“I’ll suffer the inconvenience.”

This passage was closed off by a large iron grate that sat about five feet back from the arch that led into it. The grate was perhaps eight feet tall, and ten across at the base where it was broadest, and it glowed a dim red in magesight because of the wardings woven into the iron. In the middle was a smaller, circular grate with a glyph-covered steel plate centering it. I pulled out the Signet’s finger, briefly checking the progression of the rot before I dove to press the ring against a bright green spot that perfectly matched the size and shape of the seal on the ring’s bezel.

The edges of the gate flared with spell-light and it pivoted aside, but I barely noticed. As I used the ring, I felt a sharp tugging sensation as if there were a thread running up from the spell lock, through the ring and finger to my own hand, and thence to my heart, where the sudden tug left a tiny hole—like a needle coming out of a finger. Nothing like