Page 11 of The Merciless Ones
“My eyes did not deceive me,” I insist, stepping forward. “I witnessed the resurrection of a true jatu.”
“As did I,” Belcalis says.
“Me too,” Britta adds.
One by one, my friends move to stand beside me, adding their voices to mine.
“I cut off his head with my own claws,” Katya rumbles softly. “His blood was gold. Divine, just like ours.”
“An’ he an’ the others ignored Deka’s commands,” Britta adds. “They just slid off him like water. How is that possible?”
The room devolves once more into chaos, the generals talking, shouting, over each other.
“ENOUGH!” White Hands’s voice is as thunderous as a horn, drowning out the chatter. Once the room falls to silence again, she addresses the gathered generals. “We can accept that a jatu resurrected – our bloodsisters saw it with their own eyes, therefore we must assume it is true, as is the fact that they saw multiple jatu ignore Deka’s commands. Unless we can find another, more practical explanation for what our bloodsisters experienced, we must hold this one as the truth. Now then.” She turns to me. “Do you have any idea why these things happened?”
“The jatu spoke before he died,” I reply, nodding. “He said he had been resurrected by Idugu.”
“Idugu is a myth.” General Nalini seems offended by the very notion, as do the other deathshriek generals. “A comforting tale the jatu tell themselves to assuage their guilt at betraying the only true gods.”
White Hands, however, just watches me evenly. Her calm expression gives me strength.
“I think Idugu is real,” I say.
“You believe there are other gods in Otera?” Beima, a stout Firstborn general, asks, scorn marring her plump features. “Blasphemy!”
“I would never suggest that,” I reply evenly, refusing to let her bluster intimidate me. I know my theory may be abhorrent to the others, but it must be considered. Everything has to be considered, lest we fall prey to the consequences of such swift denials. You’d think the generals would understand this after all their centuries of living. “But I do think that there are enough arcane objects remaining in Otera that can mimic divinity to those who do not know better.”
“So you think we have a charlatan,” White Hands muses.
“And does that not describe all our brothers?” Beima scoffs.
Guffaws sound across the room.
I ignore them. “I think we have someone – or something – who can resurrect jatu, even if for a short time, as well as use arcane objects to block my abilities. Objects like this.” I toss the breastplate to White Hands, who unwraps it quickly. I’m not surprised when she just peers at the symbol, the barest hint of a frown marring her forehead.
As I suspected, that symbol affects only me. The others may feel hints of its power, but it doesn’t incapacitate them the way it does me. I continue, glancing away so I don’t catch a glimpse of the symbol by mistake. “This person, whoever they are, must be hiding somewhere. And we have to find them. We start with Elder Kadiri. He is Idugu’s mouthpiece.”
And we’ve already been tasked with eliminating him.
I don’t have to say this part out loud – all the generals were there when the mothers first gave my friends and me the order. We’ve all heard reports of the high priest’s strength and ferocity in battle, the miraculous way he’s dodged a thousand alaki arrows. There’s only one explanation for how a human man can achieve such feats: he isn’t human at all, and he’s been using his true jatu’s abilities and his position as spiritual leader to convince the men of Otera that they can be just as powerful if they join the jatu.
We’ve been planning his assassination for nearly a month now, the scouts tracking his movements across Otera. He’s currently in Zhúshan, a city in the Eastern provinces, and if we move quickly enough, we can capture and interrogate him there.
A smile spreads across White Hands’s lips, the expression so pleased, I feel a trickle of dismay. She already knows exactly what I’m suggesting, which means it’s something she would have thought of herself.
Horror washes over me. When did I start making plots and scheming schemes like White Hands?
I push the question away as I look back up to meet the gazes of the gathered generals. “I suggest we move our raid on him and his men forward to the next few days, and instead of just a simple assassination, we interrogate him as well. He knows all the jatu’s secrets. Wherever Idugu is – if he truly does exist – we will root him out, discover how he or the jatu are doing this.”
“In the meantime,” Belcalis adds, “Deka will commune with the mothers, discover what manner of arcane object can mimic a resurrection, and what weaknesses it has, if any.”
She glances at me, and I nod gratefully.
“A splendid plan,” White Hands says, her expression approving. “I couldn’t have formulated it better myself.” She turns to the other generals. “Alert the scouts to prepare the plans immediately. We cannot allow word of resurrections to spread across Otera and give the jatu false hope.”
As the generals rise, ready to do as she says, she turns back to me. “Go now, speak with the mothers. Find out what you can about the arcane objects. Including this.” She hands the breastplate back to me, and I’m grateful to see it’s as carefully wrapped as it was when I tossed it to her.
One thing about White Hands: nothing ever escapes her notice – not even a detail as small as a wrapped breastplate. I can feel her noticing my tension when I slip the breastplate back into my pack, careful not to make contact with any part of it and risk that blinding pain I felt earlier. Once I’m done, I genuflect, doing the short, swift kneel I’ve gotten used to.