Triumph of the Darksword - Margaret Weis [128]
It took some doing, but the dead located him, or at least part of him, for this man was good at his calling. No human eye could pierce his shield of invisibility, and it was all the spirits could do to keep his image in their minds. The man they saw was dressed formally for the commission of Justice, wearing gray robes decorated with the symbols of the Nine Mysteries. Many of the dead recognized him—the Executioner—and they either trembled or cursed him.
One of the most powerful warlocks in Thimhallan, the Executioner dwelled within the Font. His services belonged exclusively to the catalysts in general, and Bishop Vanya in particular. In return for performing such deeds for them as the Turning to Stone and the Banishment to Beyond, the Executioner was given unlimited Life and freedom to use that Life as he chose. Thus he had been able to develop his skills in the discipline of magic far beyond those of his peers.
This day, however, the Executioner was not going to rely upon magic. As did the other Watcher in the Temple, he carried in the pocket of his gray robes a Tool, a demonic device created by the Dark Arts of Technology.
Intrigued by the device, which he had spent the night studying, the Executioner withdrew it and examined it intently. The dead, drawn by curiosity, crowded around, gazing at the device in shock and horror. What it was and what it did they had some idea, since they were one with the Creator of All. They found the terrible device difficult to understand, however, as perhaps did the Creator, who must have, on occasion, regretted giving mankind intelligence that was turned so often to malevolent pursuits.
The night previous, Bishop Vanya had called the Executioner to his office. Giving him his orders, he had made certain that the warlock knew exactly what was required of him.
“For returning to this realm and bringing upon it untold danger, the sentence of death is placed upon this man Joram,” pronounced the Bishop’s sonorous voice. “He has tricked the people into naming him Emperor; therefore, the rest of the Duuk-tsarith are bound by strict oaths to protect him You—the Executioner—are to consider yourself above these laws, since the Church—the highest authority in the land, existing by the blessing of the Almin—has decreed Joram’s death. Once the sentence has been carried out, you will retrieve the Darksword and bring it immediately to me to prevent its presence in the world from causing further harm.”
The Bishop had stopped here for breath and to carefully scrutinize the Executioner in order to make certain that he understood what he was meant to understand and didn’t what he wasn’t.
“Further,” the Bishop had continued, sucking in a noseful of air, “although the execution of Joram is undeniably justified, we consider that it will be best—the people being in a nervous and unsettled state—to allow the populace to believe that their Emperor has met his death at the hands of the enemy. A man called Menju the Sorcerer, a criminal you yourself cast into Beyond, is meeting with Joram at the Temple of the Necromancers—clear proof, by the way, that our Emperor intends to betray his people. It would be quite beneficial to all concerned if the two, Joram and this Sorcerer, were to have a falling out that would result in the Emperor’s death…”
The Executioner, understanding perfectly, had bowed in acquiescence and removed himself from the Bishop’s presence without uttering a word.
Entering a Corridor, the warlock left the Font, traveling through time and space until he arrived at the secret, subterranean chambers of the Order of Duuk-tsarith. Making his