The Kingdom of Liars

by Nick Martell

  When we finally got out of the house, the door to the keep shut behind us instantly, making sure we knew we were no longer welcome. It was well into the night when we exited, the stars bright against the black curtain. The wind blew through the streets and against my skin, prickling it. Arjay didn’t stop shaking as I held him, and I knew it wasn’t because of the cold.

  After hesitating and gagging, Rock bent and puked against the stone wall we had hidden behind earlier. And this time I couldn’t say he was being dramatic. One child had just murdered a man, with the other his accomplice. Then there was me, the fool who had caused both. A villain masquerading as a hero.

  After he spat out what remained, Rock gave me a look, different from the one he had earlier. “Well, I’ve had enough fun for the night. We both got what we wanted, and I think I’ll have some fresh customers tomorrow. Please never come see me again, unless you want some miracle-cure rocks. You make a dimmer look sane.”

  I gave him his sun, and Rock left us.

  * * *

  It was a long, slow walk in the darkness to Jean’s home, and neither of us initiated a conversation. As we crossed one of the bridges, I threw the flintlock pistol into the river on the off chance it could be traced back to Arjay, Sirash, Jean, Rock, or me. And I doubted Arjay would want a souvenir of what he had done. I didn’t even know what to say to him… thanks didn’t seem appropriate anymore, especially not when I could still taste the blood on my lips, long after I had scrubbed it off with my sleeve.

  When we finally got there, I gave Arjay a wordless hug, promising nothing this time. He returned the hug and then said, quietly, “Bring Sirash home, Michael. I need him.”

  He knocked on the door and it opened shortly after, a blinding light coming from the house. Jean ushered him in, seizing him with a tight hug as she glared at me, noticing the blood that covered us both. I gave her a nod and then walked away. My promise to her was fulfilled, even if the friendship was likely over.

  I’d save Sirash, too… somehow…

  TINDER

  I washed the Last Knight’s blood off with river water before I went to Domet’s. My body was cold and wet, and my mind was dull and hazy, but I knew I had to meet with him tonight or risk letting his anger grow. He must’ve known I’d left the theater by now, and no doubt there would be repercussions. I could have jeopardized everything we had been working toward.

  Upon entering, I knew something was incredibly wrong. It was hot inside: a blistering sweltering heat that reminded me of a blacksmith. Paintings were crooked, broken pottery strewn across the floor, and there was a steady thump-thump-thump that echoed throughout the house. When I reached the main room, I saw Domet sprawled out facedown on the floor, empty bottles around him.

  “Domet,” I said.

  No response.

  “Domet?” I said more cautiously.

  No response.

  I reached down and shook him. When he didn’t move, I flipped him over and checked his pulse. There was something there, but it was faint. He probably had alcohol poisoning. I had seen it in others, but some naïve part of me had assumed alcoholics couldn’t get it. Clearly, I was wrong. I’d have to wake him up and make sure he didn’t die in his sleep.

  I began to search his house for anything with a strong odor I could use as smelling salts. There was little in his kitchen cabinets besides bottles of alcohol, a few fruits and vegetables, and slabs of meat from a butcher—until I opened a cupboard to find more spices than I had ever seen before. They’d have to do. I grabbed a few hot peppers and peppercorns, then ground them all together in a mortar. It produced an eye-watering smell that I doubted any living human being would be able to ignore.

  But he was already waiting for me in his chair when I returned, another bottle of vodka in his hand. How had he recovered so quickly? It wasn’t natural. He shouldn’t have been able to stand, let alone be coherent. “Michael.”

  I put the mortar with my concoction down. “Domet, you’re awake… You should go to—”

  “Do you realize what you’ve done?” he growled. “Do you realize what you’ve endangered? You snubbed High Noble Alexander Ryder tonight. You’ve alienated someone who was on our side. Without his support, your invitation to the king’s birthday party is no longer guaranteed.”

  “I’ll fix it. I had something more important to deal with that forced me to leave.”

  “More important? What was more important than our deal?”

  “My friend’s brother went missing. I had to save him, and now I know my friend is missing, too. They’re family.”

  “Family?” Domet mocked. “Is there another Kingman I didn’t know of? Your friend Sirash is not a Kingman. His life is not important in the grand scheme of things. I knew you would get distracted if you knew he was in trouble.”

  “You knew he was in trouble?”

  “Of course I knew,” Domet said. “You mentioned him the night we met, so I made sure I knew who he was. I received word from my contacts that he’d been arrested the next day, but he wasn’t important, so I never mentioned the predicament he was in. You’d be distracted trying to save him and ignore the Endless Waltz.”

  “The entire time… you knew?”

  “Did I stutter, Michael? His life was expendable, and your participation in the Endless Waltz was more important.”

  I wished I hadn’t thrown the flintlock pistol into the river. “Where is he?”

  “Why would I tell you? You betrayed me, Michael.”

  “I betrayed you? You betrayed me,” I said through gritted teeth. “You swore that you would take care of my friends if something happened to me.”

  “And did something happen to you, Michael? Can you not breathe? Can you not walk? Are you in danger? Explain to me what happened that compels me to care for your friends.”

  My face felt hot and everything seemed hazy. This was the world I had returned to by choice. This corrupt world where the nobility only looked out for themselves and let those they deemed unimportant die in the streets like rats. I hated them. I hated all of them. Maybe the rebels were right. Maybe it was time for others to rule in their place.

  “Our deal is over, Domet.”

  Domet threw back his head and laughed dramatically as he rose from his seat. “No it’s not. You will do as I say, Michael. You will steal the king’s memories and let me have my redemption or—”

  “Threaten my family, and you won’t survive the night.”

  Domet continued to laugh as he moved toward the hearth and picked up the poker. “I don’t think you quite understand who I am, Michael. I didn’t lie to you. I need redemption. I have to know what truly happened to your father. If I don’t get the redemption I seek, then I can’t die. Literally.”

  That was when he took the poker and stabbed himself in the stomach. Maintaining eye contact with me the entire time, he dragged the poker up and to the right across his body, tearing flesh and organs and letting blood spill over the floor. To emphasize his point, he removed the poker and then stabbed himself in the chest, this time tearing all the flesh on the left side of his body. Through the hole I could see the wall behind him.

  Dragging it back out again, he ripped his shirt off and made me watch as his body repaired itself. Skin and flesh stitched seamlessly back together. I felt sick as I watched it happen. It defied every rule of nature and made me realize how ignorant I was about the world that someone like him could exist without me being aware… without everyone being aware.

  Blood trickled from his mouth as he said, “I can’t die, Michael. I’m immortal, bound to live until I correct all the mistakes I’ve made in life. You will not take away my chance at death. Do you understand me?”

  “How?”

  “How am I immortal? You don’t need to know, since it doesn’t concern you.”

  “No, how have you been able to hide your immortality for so long without someone noticing?”

  “Michael, should I give you a list of those I bribed and those that had
accidents? Should I tell you about the kings, queens, and Kingman that helped me remain hidden and those that saw me as a threat? No, I will not. All that concerns you is what you’re going to do for me.”

  “If I refuse?”

  “Being the enemy of a Mercenary or king is one thing… but do you really want to be the enemy of a rich, bored immortal man with an endless amount of time to plan his revenge? I was there when the First Kingman emerged hundreds of years ago, and unless you aid me, I will be alive when your children and their descendants take your place. Think about this carefully, Michael.”

  I didn’t respond, unable to find the words to confirm or reject what Domet had said. What had I become involved in? Who had I been working with this entire time?

  Silently, Domet cleaned the poker with his shirt before returning it to its proper place. “I’ll fix your horrendous miscalculation tonight and make sure you get an invitation to the king’s party. But after this I hope you understand how serious I am about getting what I want. Be grateful that I’ll keep up my end of our original deal.”

  “What about Sirash?”

  A shrug. “Don’t annoy me further and maybe I’ll help him out. You can leave. Take what money I owe you from my purse on the table.”

  I did as I was told.

  Domet returned to his seat in front of the empty hearth to drink. The conversation was over, and so was our business relationship.

  I had always thought it was Lyon, but in the end I was the real dog of the nobility.

  I left his house and stood in the cold, thoughtless. I pulled my jacket tight around me. It wouldn’t be much longer before it started snowing. Maybe a week or two if we were all lucky. I exhaled and saw my breath, clear as anything, and wondered where Sirash was. If he was alone and scared, too. I felt so guilty and had no idea how to help without incurring the wrath of Charles Domet for focusing on anything other than the Endless Waltz.

  Domet was wealthy beyond compare and… and immortal. I couldn’t hurt him. Not in the traditional sense. But maybe I could distract him by taking something away from him. Something he cared about as much as I did Sirash. Get his focus off me and the Endless Waltz so I had an opportunity to help my friend.

  I stared around, senseless, at the recently extinguished lantern streetlights, and the flickering wick barely holding on in one gave me an idea. I’d show Domet he had tried to manipulate the wrong person.

  SPARK

  Striding into the Shrine of Patron Victoria in the Upper Quarter, two bottles of grain alcohol in my hands, I paused before crossing the shrine threshold, but nothing struck me as I entered with my boots still on—not that I had thought something or someone would. I uncorked the first bottle, holding it between my teeth as I choked out the liquid, pouring it over the stones until it flooded the cracks. The wood was soaked until the top was wet and black. I drew a wet circle around the shrine and then splattered the walls. It sounded as if someone was drowning, gurgling and sputtering water from cold lips.

  Once the exterior reeked of alcohol, I went to the inner shrine. It was plain and simple. Patron Victoria stood in the center, a chiseled memory in marble. She was carefully posed, arms extended as if singing for a long-lost love. Her windswept hair framed her face, a portrait of beauty.

  I placed the bouquets of morning glories and Moon’s Tears that decorated the shrine against the statue and soaked it all in alcohol until droplets streamed down her face. I had my pyre. I used the rest of the bottle to draw a steady line from the base to the perimeter. Then there was only one thing left to do.

  I took out Sirash’s piece of flint and a knife and stood over the trail of alcohol. Was I going to do this?

  Yeah.

  Yeah, I was.

  I struck the flint against the knife until the alcohol ignited. The flames spread and swirled down the path until the shrine was engulfed and the smaller timbers cracked and fell. Heat lashed across my face and stung, until it was all ashes and embers.

  EMBERS

  The devout were out in full force this morning. Scorchers and Eternal Sisters wandered toward the Church of the Eternal Flame, performing tricks for the children and asking for donations from their parents along the way. An average day with a typical service. My neck and back cracked, stiff from a night sleeping against a stone barrier in the cold on a rooftop overlooking the remains of the shrine.

  It was amazing, really.

  Not a single person stopped to take note of the shrine of ash down the alleyway. The Advocators were too busy watching the crowds with their controlled eyes as the Scorchers guided the devout to church. All those who weren’t going walked with their heads down to avoid the guilt. It was easy to see from high above the streets. Only Charles Domet was different—carrying a bouquet of Moon’s Tears and morning glories, actively meeting the Scorchers’ gazes, guilt-free. His clothes were formal and pristine as always, unblemished despite his state last night. It was probably one of the benefits of being immortal.

  It was only after he reached the alleyway that anything changed.

  Domet screamed, falling to his knees, cane bouncing to the ground at his side, and bouquet landing in the gutter. Petals scattered, painting the grey concrete in purple and white splotches. The devout watched as Advocators rushed to his side.

  I hoped this hurt enough that Domet drank himself to sleep for the rest of his endless life.

  No one used my family against me to accomplish their own goals.

  Not even God or an Immortal.

  ASHES

  Since I was already awake, I decided to fulfill my promise to Angelo and make breakfast for my family that morning.

  Gwen was the first to find me in front of the stove after coming home from her night shift at the asylum. She was barely awake, mumbling and yawning at me instead of speaking in complete sentences. She gave me a hug, then took a piece of toast with raspberry jam on it back to her room. I could hear her snoring moments later.

  Angelo was next, stumbling into the house in his full Scales uniform. He took a seat at the kitchen table, rubbing his eyes. “Breakfast?” he questioned.

  “Breakfast,” I answered as I put a plate of eggs, toast, and mushrooms in front of him and poured myself a cup of tea. I would have offered Angelo one, but he hated tea, and sometimes, if the smell was strong enough, it would make him gag. Thankfully, this blend didn’t cause that reaction.

  “I appreciate this, Michael. It’s been a terrible morning and I doubt the day will be much better.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “The rebels infiltrated the city and attacked last night. No one noticed it until this morning. Half the nobility is enraged with King Isaac and the other half with Scales for not stopping it. Or even realizing it happened.”

  “What did they attack?” I asked. I could smell the sulfur from the Militia Quarter again.

  “The Shrine of Patron Victoria in the Upper Quarter. They burned it to the ground.”

  No matter how good a liar I was, nothing could have hidden the shock from my face. The rebels were being blamed for something I had done. Something I had done to spite Charles Domet. It wasn’t supposed to affect anyone except him.

  “W-What? Why?” I stammered.

  With a mouthful of mushrooms, he said, “No idea. It doesn’t match their previous attacks, but the nobility is convinced of it. They’ve been looking for the final nail in the Emperor’s coffin, and this, combined with the attack on the colosseum, will force a quick trial and execution. Although, for all we know, it could have been a power play from one of the nobles. I have to change and then head straight back to headquarters to find out what really happened.”

  “Were there witnesses?”

  “Yeah, and a suspect. Advocators are bringing in the man who found it burned down, while others are hunting for someone seen in the area last night. There’s an entire division of Advocators searching. Even the Whisperer for the Church of the Eternal Flame is lending his Church’s followers to help, despite the
fact they’re only supposed to aid in government trials. It all leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.”

  “Who found it burned down?” I asked, hands on the back of a chair.

  Angelo’s plate was empty but for a slice of toast. “High Noble Charles Domet. Can’t say I’m very excited to interact with him. He’s an irrational, pretentious, elitist asshole who’ll want blood spilled—and I’ll have to supply it, one way or another, if I value my position in Scales.”

  “Good luck,” I said in little more than a whimper.

  Angelo rose and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Don’t worry, Michael. I’ve survived worse. High Noble Charles Domet will not be the end of me.” He paused and glanced down at the Archmage’s journals that I had stolen from the library, with Dark’s envelope still tucked into it. Cautiously, he picked it up and twirled it in his hand. “Since when have you had access to the Hollow Library?”

  “Recently. Traded an Archivist some information for access,” I said. “How do you know about them?”

  His finger ran over the edges of the journal as if ready to flip it open to read. “I read a lot of these journals after my wife was murdered. Before I took all of you in. They comforted me. Gave me something to focus on and progress through as I grieved, even if most of them are just the ramblings of a Forgotten.”

  I didn’t know how to respond. Angelo never talked about his late wife much. All I knew was that he’d loved her immensely and that she had been taken from him too soon. I didn’t even know her name. “How many did you read?”