The False Martyr

by H. Nathan Wilcox

  “Here, then.” Ipid handed the man a sheet of paper. “You should find pen and ink in the desk there.” The captain took the paper and squeezed his large, armored frame somewhat comically into a secretary’s desk. A moment later, he held a pen as if his big fingers could barely find their way around something so small. “Start writing.”

  #

  When Captain Tyne finally left, looking a bit dazed for the list of demands he carried, Ipid sat back in the leather chair and stretched. He felt every corner of his body protest. He had barely slept in three nights and felt like he had lived a year in those days – the halcyon days with Eia were a lifetime gone. He yawned, buried his palms into his eyes, and stood with the help of the desk. His mind was swarming with so many tasks that he could barely contain them. His only hope was to keep moving and capitalize on as many as he could before they flitted away.

  A half-dozen warriors waited outside the office door. Ipid jumped at seeing them looming on either side then stared at them, puzzled. “The va Uhram sent us to protect you,” one of the men announced in answer to Ipid’s unasked question.

  He sighed, reminding himself to make use of the resources he’d been given. “Who is your leader?” he asked the man.

  “There are no chiefs among us,” the warrior said as if that were an answer. Ipid should have known. The Darthur did not have a formal command structure. They knew their duties from rote, were raised to them from birth, needed no one to tell or order them. Ipid could simply tell this man what he wanted and he would see that it was done. The problem was that the Darthur were perfectly literal and astoundingly pragmatic. If he told them to protect him, they very well may kill everyone in the house to ensure there were no possible threats. And because there was no command structure, it only required one warrior getting the wrong idea for a disaster to result.

  “What is your name, great one?” he asked, using the title out of habit.

  “Illun of the Cathum Clan.”

  Ipid built himself up. If they had no chief among them, then he must be the chief. “Post men inside the room, outside the door, outside the te-am ‘eiruh’s rooms.” He thought then added, “I will have tasks for the other warriors soon. Until then, all Darthur must stay within the walls of this estate. You will not harm the people of this city without my direct order, do you understand?”

  “And if someone is trying to kill you? I cannot stop someone without harming them.”

  Ipid took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “If someone poses a direct and immediate threat, you may stop them, but try not to kill them unless I order it.”

  The man seemed puzzled by that. He looked at his fellows, who were, if anything, more bewildered.

  “Just try not to kill anyone,” Ipid finally blurted. “Protect me and the te-am ‘eiruh, but don’t kill anyone. Alright? And don’t leave this compound. Don’t go outside the walls unless I am with you.”

  The man shook his head to send his braided hair swinging. “We are here to protect you. Why would we leave this place if you are not with us?”

  Ipid gave up. He walked toward the staircase. Two warriors fell in immediately behind him. He sighed but supposed he would appreciate having the hulking shadows soon enough. Four more warriors waited at the stairs. Another score were at the bottom. Ipid wondered if any of the people he’d asked Captain Tyne to summon would make it through that mass to his office. With a roll of his eyes, he started up the stairs, accompanied now by four warriors. That number doubled again when he reached the third floor. “I need to speak with the te-am ‘eiruh,” he said to no one in particular. “Are they in one of these rooms?”

  One of the guards led him to a door just down the hall and slapped his hand against the wood so that it shook. “K’amach-tur Ipid,” he bellowed.

  A few heartbeats later – it seemed an anxious eternity – the door opened. A small figure in a black robe appeared – of course, it had to be Eia. Only her small white hands stood out where they held the door, but Ipid did not need to see anything more. “How may I help you, my lord?” she said. “Please enter. I am alone.”

  “Wait out here,” Ipid ordered the guards. “I will only be a minute.”

  Eia held the door open and stood aside. As soon as the door closed, she was on him, his back pressed against the molding that surrounded the door. Her hood was cast back. Her lips found his. Her hands moved anxiously on him. “I have learned to not expect much, but surely you can manage more than a minute,” she teased as she pulled at his clothing.

  Ipid pulled his mouth from hers, placed his hands on her arms, and pushed her away. “I’d love to spend the entire day, but you already know how much needs to be done. Wasn’t it you that said I needed to move quickly?”

  “Certainly, but speed is not usually your problem.” She moved away from him, but her eyes remained inviting.

  Ipid was not in the mood. “I have thought of a way that you can help me.”

  “I can think of several ways,” Eia cooed as she moved back into him, snaking her hand toward his crotch.

  “Not that kind of help.” Ipid caught her hand and held it away.

  Eia lunged at him, straining against his grip like a beast held from its prey, then shifted her weight and stepped away. “You are no fun,” she whined. “I am not a fool, you know. I know that we cannot spend the day in bed like new-joined nobles. I am just teasing, but you could at least play along. So what is it you want?”

  “I am sorry,” Ipid approached her, seeing his error. “My mind is swimming. I am afraid humor is beyond me.”

  “So what grand plan keeps you from me now?”

  “It involves wearing dresses.”

  “Tempting. Though I’d rather it involved wearing nothing at all.”

  Ipid was ready this time. “So would I, but how could I ever get anything done with you sprawled across my desk all day?”

  Eia smiled. “Even I am scandalized. You see, you are a natural. So for the times I have the dresses on, what is it you will have me do? I am far more charming in a dress, but I think you need more intimidation than charm, and nothing intimidates like an Exile in a black robe.”

  “Certainly you are terrifying, my dear, but I need to know how men feel about me before we terrify them. You can read men’s emotions, correct?”

  “And women’s too. We do have emotions, you know? And those emotions turn dark when we’re referred to as ‘terrifying’. How is it that you were ever joined?”

  Ipid smiled at her barb, but a lump formed in his throat as he was struck by the similarity between Eia and Kira. Though they looked nothing alike, they were both far too sharp for him. He was Eia’s plaything, just as he had been Kira’s. “In the coming days, I will need to know what those around me are feeling,” he continued, too distracted now to continue the game. “I need to know when they’re going to break, what they’re thinking, who I can trust, and who’s going to stab me at the first possible opportunity. Can you do that?”

  “It is what I am best at. A man must feel anger before he draws a blade, must know spite before he drips the poison, must feel fear before he betrays. Those emotions create ripples in the energy I draw upon. I sense those ripples, and thereby know exactly what people are feeling. It is not just what I do, it is who I am.”

  “Perfect,” Ipid barely held the word long enough for her to finish. “But I’d rather that those around me not know that you are an Exile. I am already suspect enough. If I’m seen consorting with one of the Exiles, not even the Darthur will be able to keep the mobs at bay.”

  “Thus the dresses.” Eia smirked. “But where will you get them?”

  “I am the ruler of a nation. Dresses are the least of my concerns. I have ordered a dressmaker to be brought for you. He will make you a closet full of dresses in any style you like. Until then, I believe the youngest of the Stully daughters was about your size. I am having some of her dresses brought to you.”

  “She was a child, wasn’t she?” Eia looked down at herself aba
shed. “Is that what you think of me? Then what does that make you?”

  Ipid rolled his eyes. “She was twelve or fourteen. Not a child, and you haven’t been fourteen in a long many years, my dear.”

  Eia gasped at that then smiled. “If only you knew,” she said under her breath. “Very well, I will find something. How are you going to present me to your countrymen? Am I to be your mistress? You know, even if you don’t say it, that is what everyone will think. You will be quite the source of rumors, and I’m not sure having taken a mistress from the invaders will help you convince your people that you are not a traitor.”

  “My wife,” Ipid mumbled around a catch in his throat. He cleared it then tried again. “You will be my wife.”

  “Is this your ruse to get me to join you?” Eia asked through mock surprise. “I am honored, but I already told you that members of my order are not allowed to be joined.”

  Ipid sighed. “It will just be for show. We will say that the Darthur forced us to be joined as a way of tying me to them. It is a common enough practice, marrying off daughters to solidify partnerships. It will be accepted and will give the impression that I am important to the invaders, that I carry enough weight to be joined to them.”

  “So it is to be a loveless joining of convenience. I am simply some piece of chattel to be joined to whatever lord will offer the most for my hand – though my hand has little to do with it.” Eia sighed melodramatically. “And without a doting husband to satisfy my needs, it can only be a matter of time before my eye begins to rove. Will it be the butler, the strapping stable boy, or one of your mountainous guards that finally claims me?”

  Ipid gave up. “Someone should be here soon with the dresses. Please select one and join me. I will be in the office on the floor below.”

  “As you command, my husband.” Eia turned from him without another word and pushed the black robe down off of her shoulders. It fell to the ground around her feet revealing her small, white body, unmarred by clothes all the way to the sandals that covered her feet. She turned slightly as Ipid fumbled for the knob, providing him a profile view. “You don’t want your servants to know how I was dressed prior to their arrival, do you? Are you sure you don’t want to give them some further proof of our fidelity? I can be quite vocal about my love if it will further my husband’s needs.”

  She turned fully, but Ipid did not see. He was already slipping out the door, wondering how he could ever hope to keep her satisfied for the weeks that they would be together.

  Even as Ipid emerged from the door, he found three women waiting. Their arms were loaded with bundles of pastel fabric, lace, and crinoline. They stood well back, eyeing the warriors arrayed around them from downturned heads. From the way they shook, Ipid was surprised they had not dropped the dresses and bolted back down the stairs, but not a one of them was younger than fifty, and he doubted they could bolt much of anywhere.

  “My wife awaits.” Ipid gestured toward the door then remembered what waited on the other side. “She does not speak our language.” His voice rose as he realized that he had not discussed that detail with Eia. “And she was so ashamed of her barbaric clothes that she has already stripped. She does not know our ways, but please remember that she is your mistress now. You will treat her with every courtesy and respect.”

  “Of course, my lord,” the oldest of the ladies, a wrinkled crone with a stooped back, answered without meeting his eye. Ipid stood aside and allowed her to knock at the door. Her fellows followed her with their eyes on the floor, as if hoping that not seeing the warriors would make them disappear. The door crept open, seemingly on its own, a moment later, and the women shuffled inside with their dresses.

  Ipid could only sigh and shake his head as he turned to the nearest warrior. “And the other te-am ‘eiruh?”

  The warrior responded by leading him to the next door down the hall. He pounded on the polished wood so that Ipid thought it might fly from its hinges. “K’amach-tur Ipid,” he bellowed at the wood.

  The door opened almost immediately. A black robe stood in the doorway, entirely obscuring the man beneath – at least Ipid assumed it was a man. He stood slightly taller than Ipid, and his robe held its line around his body, suggesting that its owner maintained the posture of youth. “How may I help you?” he asked in the te-am ‘eiruh language that seemed to be universally understood by all who heard it. His voice was smooth and friendly. He brought his head up and enough light penetrated his hood for Ipid to see a short growth of black beard around a thin, brown face.

  “I am sorry that we were not introduced,” Ipid began. He stepped into the room and held out his hand. “My name is Ipid Ronigan.”

  “It is an honor to meet you. My name is Iluliano Ummaataar of the Nobutu. You may call me Liano. I am sorry, but it is not the custom of my people for men to touch other men. The sharing of our names is enough.” The man backed away from Ipid’s outstretched hand and tucked his own hands into his sleeves so as to eliminate any possibility that Ipid might grasp one in his ill-fated attempt at courtesy. “You have been much the talk with the Belab,” Liano continued as if to lessen the sting of his refusal. “It will be my great pleasure to assist you.”

  “Thank you,” Ipid said and lowered his rejected hand. The cultural disconnect was forgotten in his sudden thoughts about what Belab might have said about him. An awkward pause resulted before he was able to gather himself and continue. “Are you able to transport yourself as I have seen your kind do? I think Eia called it the see-um tallu, or some such.”

  “The sie-eium taloru?” the man corrected with a chuckle. “Yes, that is within the limits of my gift. And though this part of the city is nearly abandoned, the soldiers gathering outside are quite unsettled. They should provide the energy I need. Where is it that you need to go?”

  “Not me,” Ipid corrected. He had no desire to travel through the terrible portal unless the need was truly dire. “I need you to carry a message.”

  The man nodded slowly. He seemed to stiffen. Ipid wondered if he had somehow insulted him. “The Belab asked me to do anything you require, so if it is a messenger that you need, that is what I shall be.” His voice was tight, the friendly tone seemed to have been replaced with formality.

  Ipid did not have time to consider the man’s feeling. “Thank you. I need you to go to Arin. Please ask him to return the knights that he captured yesterday. You can assure him that he will have them before the Battle of Testing with Liandria, but I need them right now.”

  Liano laughed, a long, deep chortle. “You want me to make a request of the Darthur chief?” He laughed again.

  Obviously, Ipid had suggested something far outside the bounds of custom, but he did not have time to talk with Arin himself. Certainly, he should have thought of this the previous day, but there had simply been too much on his mind, and it was too late now.

  “I will go to the Belab,” Liano said when he had recovered. “I will tell him of your need. If he agrees, he will take your request to the va Uhram. You should know that those of our order do not speak with the Darthur. Only the Belab can bring himself to share words with them.”

  “That will be fine,” Ipid said through his surprise. “Tell the Belab that those men are well respected throughout the Kingdoms. I need them to take command in the places I cannot be.”

  “It shall be as you request. When do you need these knights to return?”

  “As soon as possible. Tomorrow, I hope.”

  “I will tell the Belab.”

  “Please, thank him for his help.”

  “I will. Now, if you want this done with haste, I should be away.” The man bowed again and pushed the door closed behind him before Ipid could even manage his thanks. A second later, he felt the, now familiar, wave of calm rush over him.

  With a deep breath, he turned back to the hall and the cadre of warriors it held. Eia waited, looking like a lost child in their hulking presence. She smiled and turned to show off a gaudy pale-lavender dress. As Ip
id had guessed, she was very close to the same size at the Stully’s youngest daughter. The dress was tight across her chest where she had more of a woman’s endowment and it hit the floor a bit early, but it was otherwise passable, if a bit juvenile for a full-grown woman.

  “Is this what you had in mind, my lord?” Eia asked with a smirk. She stepped toward him and caught his arm. “I especially like the butterflies.” She looked scornfully at the fancifully colored butterflies that fluttered up from the ground, rising all the way to the high bodice. “I swear the girl does not have a single dress without butterflies on it and all in the most hideous shades of pastel. I thought I had entered some fantasy garden when the crones held them up.”

  Ipid smiled. As he looked closer, he realized how inappropriate the dress really was. Not only were there butterflies but also a large bow in the back and pink crinoline beneath the skirt. He had thought the girl old enough to be past such childish fashions. Still, it was good to see Eia looking uncomfortable for once.

  “If I keep wearing these dresses, people will begin to wonder about your tastes. I could almost pass for twelve in this.” Ipid realized suddenly that she was speaking Darthur rather than her magically universal speech. He smiled at that.

  “As you said, you have not been twelve in many years.” Eia gave him an obligatory scowl. “I think the larger concern is that they will doubt your fashion sense, and rightly so. The only thing worse than that creation is the robe you normally wear.”

  “Is it not a husband’s duty to see that his wife is properly dressed?”

  “The dressmaker will be here soon enough, my dear. They’ll make anything you want.”

  Eia smiled, mischief sparkling in her eye. “Anything? Now, that is something to consider.”

  “Keep in mind you are to be the wife of the Chancellor.”

  “Chancellor now? I know we said that you needed to rule decisively, but don’t you think that is taking it a bit too far?”