The Dagger Of Arakand: Fantasy Novel

By Alfred Bekker

The Dagger Of Arakand: Fantasy Novel

by Alfred Bekker

 

The size of this book is equivalent to 483 paperback pages.

 

His name is Dagger - and he is an assassin of the God-Emperor of Arakand. When he is ordered to kill the members of a heretical brotherhood of monks, he spares the immobilized cripple Baladus.

A mistake he will bitterly regret.

Soon Baladus leads a rebellion that shakes the Arakand Empire to its foundations. And at the same time, the God-Emperor's magic, which in the past saved Arakand from the destructive power of the Fire of the Two Suns, seems to be fading...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alfred Bekker
• Release date: Mar 8, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215706398

Alfred Bekker

Alfred Bekker wurde am 27.9.1964 in Borghorst (heute Steinfurt) geboren und wuchs in den münsterländischen Gemeinden Ladbergen und Lengerich auf. 1984 machte er Abitur, leistete danach Zivildienst auf der Pflegestation eines Altenheims und studierte an der Universität Osnabrück für das Lehramt an Grund- und Hauptschulen. Insgesamt 13 Jahre war er danach im Schuldienst tätig, bevor er sich ausschließlich der Schriftstellerei widmete. Schon als Student veröffentlichte Bekker zahlreiche Romane und Kurzgeschichten. Er war Mitautor zugkräftiger Romanserien wie Kommissar X, Jerry Cotton, Rhen Dhark, Bad Earth und Sternenfaust und schrieb eine Reihe von Kriminalromanen. Angeregt durch seine Tätigkeit als Lehrer wandte er sich schließlich auch dem Kinder- und Jugendbuch zu, wo er Buchserien wie 'Tatort Mittelalter', 'Da Vincis Fälle', 'Elbenkinder' und 'Die wilden Orks' entwickelte. Seine Fantasy-Romane um 'Das Reich der Elben', die 'DrachenErde-Saga' und die 'Gorian'-Trilogie machten ihn einem großen Publikum bekannt. Darüber hinaus schreibt er weiterhin Krimis und gemeinsam mit seiner Frau unter dem Pseudonym Conny Walden historische Romane. Einige Gruselromane für Teenager verfasste er unter dem Namen John Devlin. Für Krimis verwendete er auch das Pseudonym Neal Chadwick. Seine Romane erschienen u.a. bei Blanvalet, BVK, Goldmann, Lyx, Schneiderbuch, Arena, dtv, Ueberreuter und Bastei Lübbe und wurden in zahlreiche Sprachen übersetzt.

Book preview

Prologue

We are chosen assassins of the God-Emperor of Arakand; the secret tools of the one to whom God gave the power to banish the Second Light. We kill swiftly and quietly, undetected and unseen - sustaining the one who sustains the world.

So it came from five hundred throats. A muffled, murmuring chorus of deep voices. Words spoken with solemn earnestness echoed in the temple vault.

The men who had gathered wore frock-like cloaks.

Cloaks, as if made to conceal weapons underneath and whose dark fabric made them appear like dark shadows in the flickering light of the torches.

A priest walked down the rows of assassins freshly consecrated to the service of the God-Emperor. He wore a white robe. He placed his hands on the head of each of the prospective assassins and asked, What is your name, assassin?

Dagger, replied the young man he was blessing.

The priest had to smile involuntarily. "Really dagger?" he asked.

Like my tool.

Who gave you that name?

I gave it to myself.

And what is the name your parents gave you?

I grew up in the streets of Arakand. I never met my parents. And whether they ever gave me a name, I don't know.

The priest looked into the young man's eyes - and was startled. There was something in his face that reminded him of someone. The priest turned pale and really flinched. The young man to whom he had just given the Assassin's Blessing looked like his son, his suddenly like his younger brother, and finally like his predecessor in office who had risen from the grave. The one to whom I once handed the cup of poisoned wine and who then repaid me for this tasty drink by dying quickly and enabling me to become First Priest of Arakand, the priest recalled with horror.

An unpleasant memory. It was like a violent stab, which was led straight into the center of his bad conscience. Even a priest did not always act as the commandments of the Nameless God actually demanded....

The superior smile that had disappeared from the priest's face for a moment returned. Meanwhile, the young man's face seemed to change. His features now seemed completely inconspicuous and no longer bore any resemblance to the priest's predecessor in office.

You are a changer, the priest stated. And his tone was one of relief.

A lot of Assassin brothers are changers.

With good reason, the priest knew. You look at their faces, but no one can describe them later. Anyone who looks at one of them recognizes someone else.

There was a dark magic attached to the changers.

It was not surprising that until that day they were often perceived as curse-bringers and had almost been eradicated in the past.

But for the God-Emperor's Assassin Guard, they were made for the job. And the First Priest of Arakand was pleased with every one of them he was allowed to consecrate. For they were best able to carry out their master's mission as the assassins' blessing formula demanded: unrecognized and invisible.

The first priest looked the young man straight in the eyes. Impossible to tell what color they were, so quickly they seemed to change it!

"Since I can't remember your face, I'll remember your name well - Dagger! announced the First Priest. Precisely because there are so few of your kind left, you may have a steep climb ahead of you."

The only career a changer can have in this city, the First Priest added in thought. In this respect, he chose the profession of assassin wisely.

I would be honored, Dagger said.

When the ceremony is over, don't go out with the others, but stay here.

As you command, sir.

The First Priest placed both hands on Dagger's head and spoke the words required by the ritual. I bless your holy service, I bless your holy murders, I bless your silence over all that you do and all that you experience. May the Nameless God protect you, as He protects all of us from being burned by the First Light of Heaven. But you protect the God-Emperor of Arakand with your life, so that the Second Light of Heaven may also spare us. Swear perpetual obedience and fidelity in faith, Assassin!

I swear it by the power of the Nameless God and my life, replied Dagger.

So now you belong to the guard of assassins. A brother among holy assassins. Only death or the end of the world can release you from the bond of this holy brotherhood.

Only death or the end of the world, Dagger dutifully repeated the words he had been taught at the conclusion of training for the formal admission ceremony.

*

Later, when all the others who had been consecrated that night had already left, Dagger still remained in his place in the temple vault, waiting. A servant of the First Priest had begun to extinguish the torches. Dagger saw the First Priest standing next to the cuboid altar - next to him a broad-shouldered, towering figure in a dark cowl. The hood was pulled deep into his face, so that only dark shadow was visible underneath.

Dagger recognized him anyway, because he wore the brass-colored amulet of the assassin master. Balok was his name. Dagger had completed most of his training with him.

The light of the moon fell through a window into the interior of the vault, which belonged to a side temple of the imperial palace. When Balok turned a little closer to the first priest, the moonlight reflected in his amulet, causing it to glow.

It was a sacred border moon night, as befitted ceremonies of this kind. Clearly visible through the window was the characteristic black stripe that seemed to divide the moon.

This stripe stretched across the entire sky in an east-west direction from horizon to horizon. Sometimes the moon rose in the southern half of the sky, sometimes in the northern half. Sometimes it also wandered across the border in one night. And sometimes it rose in such a way that the celestial boundary intersected it. When it stayed like this all night without moving to one side or the other, it was called a sacred night of the border moon.

Priests and scholars calculated the dates of these nights long in advance. And the sale of corresponding calendars was one of the most important sources of income for the priesthood of the Nameless God.

Dagger did not know much about his past. He suspected that his parents had fallen victim to one of the Wechsler persecutions that had occurred in the past.

The first years he had lived with a woman. An ordinary human woman, whom he was also only able to remember darkly. She had taken him in. But the black fever had carried her away. And from then on, Dagger had been on his own. The characteristics of a changer had not only been a disadvantage for him. After all, they had made it possible for him to get by as a thief.

He could not even have said the name of this foster mother. But he remembered the sound of her voice. And how she had said to him, You must have been born on a border moon night, or you wouldn't be alive.

The sound of those words and her voice had accompanied him all his life.

Whether he had really been born on a border moon night or whether she had only said that to express how lucky he had been to survive the persecution to which his parents had fallen victim, Dagger did not know.

But at that moment he involuntarily had to think about it.

*

The conversation between Balok and the first priest seemed to drag on. At first there was only a quiet whispering between the two men, too quiet for Dagger to understand a word. At last it grew louder, and scraps of words echoed over to Dagger. Then the assassin master bowed. With hurried steps he walked away.

When he came near Dagger, he stopped short, turned his gaze in his direction. The light of the border moon fell in such a way as to illuminate the darkness under his hood. A face covered with pockmarks became visible. The eyes flickered restlessly.

Dagger startled.

Even we are not immune to the dark magic of our own kind, thought Dagger.

Balok was also a changer. The pockmarked face that Dagger saw for a single heartbeat actually belonged to a beggar whom Dagger had stabbed as a young boy. For the sake of a few coins that the street urchin had been able to live on for a whole month.

The pox face disappeared, giving way to indeterminate, almost soft and cowardly features.

"The nameless God be with you, Assassin brother," Balok whispered.

Then he walked away.

Dagger still heard the door of the side temple fall into the lock behind the Assassin Master, heavy and dull.

The sound echoed several times in the vault. The servant of the first priest had extinguished all torches in the meantime. Only the border moon still gave light.

The servant also left the temple.

Come here, Assassin Brother, the First Priest demanded.

Dagger obeyed. The priest also stepped forward and received the just blessed Assassin brother in the center of the light cone. His white robe seemed to glow through it.

Take this, said the priest, holding out his hand. An amulet lay on it. At first glance, it looked like an ordinary Arakandian silver coin. But the engraving was clearly different. A sequence of characters could be seen on it. The secret writing of the priesthood, Dagger recognized. Created for secret books that must not be accessible to ordinary people ... No one except members of the High Clergy was allowed to learn this special script. And whoever taught it to outsiders was punished with death as well as damnation in the hereafter.

What is it?

An identifier. You are a changer. Even I can hardly remember your face, let alone recognize it. And I don't want to rely on the sound of a voice alone. There might be a situation where I need to be sure I have no one but you in front of me, dagger. You understand me?

Yes, said Dagger.

Then I will require you to show this amulet.

I will always carry it with me.

If you lose it, you lose your life, dagger. If you keep it, it will open many doors for you. And it will allow you to serve the God-Emperor in a very special way.

Yes, sir.

"To the God Emperor ... and me!"

Dagger's hand clasped the amulet. It felt cold.

As unusually cold as the wind that blew toward him when he left the temple and stepped outside. Arakand, this huge city by the sea, was known for its mild climate. Only very rarely did the cool winds from the north or south make it to this place in the middle of the world. And if it did happen, then it was considered a good sign, because it meant that the Second Light was far away and at least within the next year was not about to burn the world and boil the sea.

Dagger stopped. Alone at night between the sprawling, imposing buildings of the imperial palace, which was laid out like a city within the city, with its own harbor that enabled the god-emperor and his entourage to escape if necessary, the various walls, each more than twenty paces wide, that surrounded the city on the land side were, against all probability, to be breached at some point by a foreign army.

Dagger looked at the sky.

The border that stretched from horizon to horizon like an arc across the firmament and separated the northern half of the world from the southern half was clearly visible even in the night. And the moon was still cut by it exactly in the middle.

A sign, thought Dagger. And it must also have been the sign of my birth. The Nameless God meant it well with me and my destiny ...

He spread his arms.

At that moment, he felt that the power of the Nameless God Himself was flowing through him and filling him as never before in the short, hard life he had led so far.

He has guided me and directed my destiny, he thought with awe. In the years that he had lived in the winding streets of the city like a wandering shadow, scurrying from house niche to house niche and trying to conceal himself as best he could, faith had sustained him. That he had now entered the sacred service of the god-emperor filled him with deep satisfaction.

There was not a hint of doubt in his mind that he would fulfill this service in absolute obedience. Until death or the end of the world ...

Chapter 1

Years later ...

Dagger!

It was the voice of the assassin master Balok that made Dagger rise from his camp.

Yes?

He had retired to his regular hour of rest after the strenuous exercises he performed in the morning. It began when the First Light was at its zenith and ended when it no longer touched the sky line.

Dagger blinked. The Second Light was currently positioned, even at noon, so that its rays shone straight through the high window into his meager room.

The room itself was more like a monk's cell. There was a bed, a table and a chair. On the table was a small book bound in leather. It contained excerpts from the Book of the Nameless God. Every assassin received it when he started his service. On the wall hung his weapons: a long, narrow sword, a short, broad one, daggers of various designs and sizes, throwing stars, and a one-handed crossbow. Next to it on a hook hung the wide cloak that was supposed to conceal all these things, and a leather-covered doublet that consisted of several layers of very tightly woven different fabrics and was supposedly largely stab-proof. However, Dagger had avoided the test. A good assassin strikes before his victim could waste even a single thought on possibly defending himself.

Dagger rose, unlocked the door and stood in front of Balok.

Since they were both changers and thus more knowledgeable about the dark magic of their kind than most other inhabitants of Arakan, both Assassin brothers avoided direct eye contact. At the same time, they tried to maintain as nonspecific a facial expression as possible. A rigid, uniform facial expression without any particular expression reduced the influence that the sight of a Wechsler face had on the counterpart. This was proven beyond doubt, although not even the greatest scholars of Arakand could have said what the exact reason was. It seemed to be simply a consequence of certain laws of nature.

It was not easy for a changer to hide his special characteristics. But Dagger had also learned this in his early youth like hardly any other of his kind. Otherwise, it would have been impossible for him to survive.

And yet one could never be completely sure, because it was always up to the observer to recognize the changer. The changes of the face happened in his thoughts. And they were not controllable for the changer. The only thing he could do was to observe his counterpart closely and to avoid everything that helped to awaken these thoughts and memories.

Changers always proceeded in this way among themselves.

It was a commandment of consideration. Even if two bills of exchange were not well-disposed toward each other, they usually complied. It was not only the solidarity of the few survivors among themselves. It was also the simple realization that the other was able to recall at least as unpleasant faces from one's own memory as one was.

You are to climb the east tower, Balok said. At the top, you are expected.

An assignment? asked Dagger.

Balok's smile was so restrained that someone who didn't know him wouldn't have noticed it.

"You need a dagger," he said.

So I will fulfill my sacred duty, declared Dagger with almost solemn seriousness. He wanted to habitually reach for his weapons, put on the belt and the hanger with the most diverse pouches and sheaths, plus the back sheath for the long sword, whose straps passed over the shoulder had tabs for various small daggers and throwing stars, not to mention the hanger for the one-handed crossbow held by two straps on the leg, which measured just three quarters of a cubit.

But Balok put his hand on Dagger's shoulder. No, he said with great determination. Dagger looked at him in amazement. The looks of both men met for the first time in a direct way, but only for a short moment. Just looking into the eyes. Pay no attention to the face, it went through Dagger's mind. Balok had not only taught him the craft of an assassin, so that Dagger was able to kill as inconspicuously as almost no other of this holy profession. He had also taught him how to withstand the gaze of another Changer if necessary. Something I could only learn from another of my kind, Dagger knew.

This is not a Holy Murder like any other before it, Balok said. The very fact that I interrupt you in your hour of rest and seek you out here in your cell should seem unusual to you.

What is it about? asked Dagger.

The commandment of silence has always been a high value for us Assassin brothers.

I never broke it.

As for this case, this commandment has even greater significance than all the other times, since you wielded your weapons in the service of the God-Emperor and for the preservation of the world.

Dagger knew Balok as a sober man. One who was not prone to pathos and passion and who seemed as cold as a dead fish to outsiders. Balok had never particularly emphasized the importance of their service. He saw himself as a craftsman of death. He did his work and expected no glory for it. If only because of his changer nature, he would have been uncomfortable being singled out. When someone like Balok spoke with such a meaningful tone, it was probably really not a matter like others.

And Dagger, who during his time growing up in the streets of Arakand had learned to assess others and attach meaning to every change, of course noticed it immediately.

I'm getting on in years now, Balok said. In the near future, I will transition to veteran status and end the life I have led as an unremarkable assassin as an equally unremarkable citizen of Arakand.

You have more than earned this status, Assassin Master, said Dagger. Even though I regret that you will then no longer hold your important office.

I will be expected to propose a successor, Balok continued. True, the decision does not depend on me alone, since the God-Emperor himself has the final say in the matter. But in the last two hundred years it has not happened that the succession proposal of an outgoing Assassin Master has been rejected. The God-Emperor could always be sure of the loyalty of his Holy Assassins - which has never been true for his Life Guard, the City Guard or the Priesthood!

Dagger swallowed.

He had never thirsted for office and dignity; he had never wasted a single thought on the possibility of leading others. It had always been sufficient for him to provide his service in faithful loyalty and the greatest conscientiousness and to lead a safe, secure life himself. As safe as it was possible for a changer in Arakand. Since he had been ordained as an assassin brother, fear had disappeared from his soul. The fear he had felt so often in all the years he had roamed the streets of Arakand, living off theft. A fear that had kept him alive then, but later would have been only a paralyzing poison.

Dagger would not have minded living out the rest of his days as a simple but recognized assassin, until perhaps at some point the signs of old age would have made it impossible for him to perform his duties with his usual quality.

The Assassin Master's announcement caught him completely off guard.

Lord, I don't know if I am worthy of this honor.

You don't have to worry about that, Dagger. I am sure that you are suitable for it. And it would be of great concern to me to know that the leadership of the Brotherhood is in good hands.

You know I always try to do my service the best I can.

Yes, I know that. So that even the God-Emperor will be aware that you are the right man to succeed me, you will make a special effort in the mission that will now be given to you.

So it's a particularly important murder, Dagger concluded.

Balok nodded. It must be more important than anything you've done so far. Not even I have been informed of the details. I don't know who it's about, nor do I know any circumstances. But I've been instructed to remind you once again of the silence rule ...

... that I will never break!

... and which in this case should also be observed towards the First Priest. This likewise applies to prayers and confessions for the relief of souls. As far as this matter is concerned, you will not be able to avail yourself of any of it.

This was unusual and made Dagger pay attention.

The Assassins' vow of silence did not normally apply to the First Priest. For his part, the First Priest had taken a vow of silence about all events in the palace, which of course also concerned all matters of the Assassins.

I'll take it as it comes, Dagger replied.

*

Climbing the east tower of Arakand was no small feat, even for a well-trained assassin like Dagger. No tower in the entire world stretched closer to the arc of the skyline than this one. Nowhere on the entire globe was one closer to the two sunlights than up here at noon.

Once at the top, Dagger took a deep breath. He let his gaze wander - and was overwhelmed.

Never before had Dagger seen the city, in whose alleys he had spent his entire life, in the way it was possible from up here: the largest city in the world, once the center of a vast empire, now confined only to the area within its outer walls. And yet it was a sight that made Dagger's breath catch. More people lived in this city, it was said, than in all the adjacent realms combined. The massive, titanic walls had battlements wider than the widest streets, which dated back to the days of the old empire and until that day had traversed dozens of countries in a straight line. More ships lay in the harbor than in any other place under the sky line and the two lights of day, and the gleaming golden domes of the cathedrals and temples testified to the immense wealth that was at home behind the walls of the city.

Though the days of the glorious empire were long gone and the city seemed a shadow of its former glory, it was still by far the richest city in the world. Merchants from Arakand dominated maritime trade, and its location on the only strait that allowed passage from the ocean of the north to the ocean of the south flushed a steady stream of gold and silver into the city's coffers with the toll of uncounted ships passing through the Strait of Arakand.

There was also a second stream that brought wealth and prosperity to Arakand. These were the pilgrims who came to pray at the feasts of the Church of the Nameless God in the temples and cathedrals that the approaching Second Light would not burn the world.

Arakand was located on a peninsula that was completely separated by the walls of the city from the rest of that continent, which was also called the belt of the world, because it stretched parallel to the dark arc of the sky running east-west. Just as the unmistakable arc in the sky marked the boundary between north and south, so the belt of the world divided the two oceans from each other.

On the battlements of the tower, Dagger saw the figure of a man.

The God-Emperor, he shuddered.

The ruler wore dark, flowing robes. Garments as black as the night, because the night had one important characteristic in common with himself: only the God-Emperor and the nightfall could banish the Second Light for a certain time when it dangerously approached the world.

But while the night could maintain this spell for only a few hours, the God-Emperor could do so for years. Sometimes for decades or even longer.

The skull of the god-emperor was completely hairless.

Shaved bald so that one could see the tattooed mark of his election.

Since the First Light was still at its zenith, it cast no shadow. Only the shadow of the Second Light was visible. It did not rise quite as high in the sky as the First.

Both suns were almost the same size.

They seemed almost like twins.

However, it had not always been so. Dagger could remember that the Second Light had been barely one-tenth the size of the First Light's solar disk during the time his memories had been awakened.

But over the years, the Second Light had grown larger and larger. In a long cycle it approached the world again and again and threatened to scorch it. It was not yet so far, but everyone who looked to the sky could see that it was not long in coming.

Then the day came when the God-Emperor stopped the Second Light in a sacred ceremony and sent it back.

The preserver of the world, it went through Dagger's head with a pleasant shudder. What an honor to serve him. Deep gratitude filled him. Gratitude and unshakable faith in the power that the God-Emperor had been given to save and preserve the world.

The God-Emperor, whose gaze had so far been directed over the battlements into the distance, now turned around.

Dagger knelt down.

The God-Emperor eyed him, and Dagger did not dare to lift his eyes. It was the first time he was so close to the ruler of Arakand. A feeling of self-consciousness filled him.

You are Dagger, I suppose, said the God-Emperor.

Yes, sir.

Stand up and come closer.

Yes, Lord, but ...

I am not afraid of the sight of a changer. In all the years of my reign I have had to look into such terrible abysses, not even your face can frighten me.

Yes, sir.

Dagger obeyed and approached. Even now, he hardly dared to lift his eyes, for nothing would have been further from his intention than to awaken some hidden terror in the soul of his counterpart. At the same time, the God-Emperor did not seem to avoid eye contact with Dagger at all. Dagger felt the ruler's gaze burning on his skin. It was agonizing.

Did I tell you to stop? Come even closer, Assassin!

Yes, sir.

Come here beside me and take a look over the battlements. You don't need to know why you kill each time. It is enough if you are aware of what you are preserving.

Yes, sir.

Dagger stepped next to his ruler on the battlements. Just like the Nameless God, the God-Emperor had no name. He took it off at the enthronement. After that, he was only the God Emperor, predecessor and successor of other God Emperors whose task was to banish the Second Light.

The God-Emperor made a sweeping gesture and Dagger followed it with his gaze.

The sky was cloudless. There was a wide view from up here. It stretched east to the other side of the Arakand Strait, where the end of the chain was located.

The Chain End was the name of the only district of Arakand, which was located on the eastern shore of the Strait. Though the end of the chain may be larger than most of the capitals of the other empires on the world's belt, it was hardly a village compared to Arakand. Strictly speaking, it was a fortress that served the sole purpose of controlling the eastern shore of the strait from Arakand. The name came from the fact that from the palace harbor a chain led across the seabed to this fortress. With the help of powerful winds, it could be stretched and then blocked the most important sea route in the world, so that no ship could still pass through it.

Look to the west now, Assassin, the God-Emperor prompted him, extending his arm. Look over the Outer City Wall, which bears the birth name of one of my ancestors, which would be sacrilege today, since the emperor's name must never be mentioned again after enthronement. But in the course of the ages some customs have changed.

The ruler smiled superiorly.

The way in which the God-Emperor addressed him puzzled Dagger. It was not customary for the ruler to speak personally to subordinates. And this was especially true for the assassins. The conscience of the ruler should remain clear. What his assassins did was necessary, but if possible, the world's sustainer should not be associated with it.

But Dagger had understood by now that the matter with which he was to be entrusted was apparently little like his previous work.

Look over the walls to the west, Assassin! You can see from here the tents of the barbarian lords, who besiege our city with regularity and then leave without having achieved anything, because otherwise too many of their warriors are brought to the city by secret smugglers and are recruited here as mercenaries of the city guard. The God-Emperor smiled as Dagger gazed into the distance, squinting against the bloated Second Light. It would fill half the sky if it came close to the world. Arakand faces no danger from the outside, Dagger. It has been besieged for as long as I can remember, and even my grandfather stood atop this tower and watched as the barbarian armies were disbanded time and again. Not by the fire of our catapults. Not by the war skills of our mercenaries. But by the dreams of the barbarians themselves. Because the longer they camp out there in front of the walls, the stronger their desire to live on this side of the wall becomes. And this dream of the good life in the richest city in the world is stronger than anything else. No barbarian army is a match for it. Not in a thousand years, my good dagger. No, the danger comes from within. From the dark, winding alleys, or even from the palace itself. The God-Emperor pointed his index finger at his forehead just below the place where the mark, made up of countless interwoven ligatures, began that had been burned into his head. Danger begins in the mind, dagger. Heresies, false thoughts, speculative theories, unholy sciences that contradict the teachings of the Nameless God. All this has already cost Arakand its empire. And it could completely ruin the city if these things were given free rein. Do you understand what I'm getting at, Dagger?

Dagger swallowed.

He did not understand. He was only filled with the belief that the God-Emperor was doing the right thing and that it justified every sacrifice and every crime to protect him and to make sure that he could perform the banishing rituals that sent away the Second Light. Everything else was beside the point. The alternative was the end of the world. A scorched land, a boiling sea and a lost future.

I am a plain murderer, Dagger confessed. Untalented in spirit. The only thing I know anything about is silent killing. And whomever you, O Lord, choose to sacrifice, I will send to hell.

Your assassin master thinks highly of you. He wants you to be his successor.

I do what I'm told, no matter what rank I may hold.

If you were not loyal, I would not receive you here at all, Dagger. The God-Emperor pointed off into the distance toward the besiegers. "I have given you one reason why these barbarians will never take Arakand and will leave with a ransom at best and without their best men at worst. But I will give you a second reason why Arakand has never been conquered and will not be conquered in the future. Neither by the barbarians, nor by more powerful empires, who might well have the means to launch a more effective siege! The God-Emperor clenched his hand into a fist and pounded it against his chest. I am the reason, the God-Emperor. Everywhere they worship the Nameless God, everywhere the Empire used to rule, they believe that it is the God Emperor who sends the Second Light away. These fools know very well that if, against all odds and their military incapacity, and not least against their notorious quarrelsomeness, they should manage to overcome these walls, defeat our warships and conquer the palace, it would be their own downfall. At the latest, when the Second Light approaches and sears their foreheads and blinds their eyes, they will realize that I am the only one capable of banishing this danger."

So we should all hope that the faith remains widespread everywhere and our city has only pious enemies, Dagger said.

You are smarter than you pretend to be, the God-Emperor stated. He looked at Dagger in a way that made the latter immediately realize what was wrong with him. No one needed to explain it to him, it was unnecessary to say a word about it. Who might he see now? A heretic whom he has condemned to death?, it went through Dagger's mind. There were so many of them. But why should he have a guilty conscience about that? No, it must be someone he really wronged, otherwise his reaction would not be so violent. Not with him ...

At first, Dagger had already thought that the God-Emperor's insensitivity to the sight of his changer's face was due to the fact that the Sustainer of the World had such a pure heart that no one appeared to him in the features of a changer whose face had to frighten him.

But it didn't seem that way.

Do you know why I'm welcoming you up here on this tower, Dagger?

No, sir.

"Because only here can I be sure that no one is listening to us. The palace has ears, they say. And I have had to