The False Martyr

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The False Martyr Page 29

by H. Nathan Wilcox


  “Hmm. People tend to dislike great sacrifices. They will have no choice as long as an army is camped at their gates, but once the invaders move on as you say . . . .”

  “I am here only to give the Darthur what they want. When they leave, I am ordered to accompany them. I could not stay even if I wanted to. I need not be popular. I need only succeed. When I am gone, the Parliament can be convened and a new Chancellor can be elected.”

  The valati laughed. “That is fine for you. What about those of us that help you? Do you think the mob that chases you from the city will treat us with kindness for assisting you? You might as well kill me now.”

  “I did not say under what terms I will leave.” Ipid had an inspiration. “I could be forced from power. It could even be you that does it. You could be a hero.”

  Valati Wallock did not respond immediately, but Ipid saw his mouth quirk. “It is risky, but I do not see that there are any other options. It will have to be more people than me. It would not be right for a valati to overthrow a sitting ruler. It is strictly forbidden, in fact, but if I can be seen as supporting the man who does depose you, well, that would be something.” He thought some more then added, “I want your assurance that if things turn the wrong way you will take me with you. I need to know that you will not leave me for the mob.”

  Ipid could not stop a laugh. “I do not think you realize what you are asking. I will take you with me if that is your desire, though I cannot guarantee what will happen after that.”

  The valati sighed long and deep. “It seems the best that can come from this, so when will we do the inauguration?”

  “Tomorrow morning.” Ipid felt a sudden weight lifted from his shoulders. “We need witnesses, so we will do it at your temple on the east side, where there are still people. We will need a very carefully crafted lesson. Can you do that?”

  “I can. I assume you will want to read it before it is delivered?”

  “I will.”

  “I should get to work then. Is there a place where I can . . . ?”

  Ipid gestured to one of the desks arrayed around the room. “Take your pick.” The valati nodded and made his way to the closest. A moment later, he was scribbling notes.

  Ipid returned to his desk and found Eia waiting. She clasped his arm and looked up at him. “I like him,” she said in Darthur. “He is terrified, but he is smart, and he knows what is at stake. He knows that he is trapped. Just meeting with you made him complicit. He was caught between the flood and the fire. You were brilliant to give him a way out and even more so to find one that may elevate him.”

  Ipid let out a long held breath. “Thank you, my dear.”

  Eia caught him and brought his eyes back to hers. “Just be sure he doesn’t give you to the mob before you are ready to be gone. The only thing the mob will like more than seeing you gone is seeing you swing from a rope. And our gentle valati may decide that he should be the one to tie the knot.”

  Chapter 24

  The 23rd Day of Summer

  The pale sauce jiggled as Ipid poked at it. He pushed back the scales of the muddy river fish and tried to scrape the gelatinous sauce from the meat. The walls of the office suggested that he was in a palace, the food before him, a prison. It was clear that the Stullys had taken all their, even adequate, cooks with them, adding yet another position that Ipid had to fill – even the simple food of the Darthur would be welcome compared to this. He added cook to his mental list. No matter what people made it through his doors, that list only seemed to get longer.

  Under the circumstances, Ipid had to admit that Captain Tyne had done well. Eia had her dressmaker and a cadre of apprentices to do the sewing. Jewelers had been found to make pendants and seals. A number of servants had been added to the Stully’s meager crew. The city watch had been gathered. He even had a tailor working on suits for himself. But he still only had three apprentice scribes to copy his edicts and not a single decent secretary to write them. There were no order advisors to review the laws. No bookkeepers, administrators, traders, caravans, ships, couriers, or any of the thousand other people and things he needed to meet Arin’s demands. And, worst of all, no word from Liano about the return of the Chancellor’s Own. If Arin held them, he was as good as done.

  “This fish is awful,” Eia said from beside him. She giggled as she pushed on the sauce and watched it shake. “I have never seen anything like it. How did they even make that happen?”

  “Hmm?” Ipid asked, mind wandering. He looked at her, sitting at the side of the desk. She had spent much of the day with her dressmakers, leaving him to brood. Now, he could barely remove himself from his thoughts long enough to share a meal with her.

  “Never mind,” she laughed. Her hand found his. The other pushed the plate away. “You’ve had a good start,” she said, turning serious. “The Church and watch are yours. Tomorrow, you will become Chancellor. I know you are frustrated that things are not happening faster, but the city is in disarray. Many people have fled. Whole areas were destroyed. It will take time.”

  “I don’t have time.” Ipid sighed and sat back. “The pendulum swings. Soon the Darthur will move on. The people will get restless and all this will just get harder and harder.”

  Eia smiled. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. As long as you remain willing to do what is needed, you will succeed.”

  “And if Arin does not return the Chancellor’s Own?” Ipid felt his stomach drop at the very thought. “I have no one else that I can trust to take control of the outlying districts.”

  “Why them? Why not just use the existing governors?”

  “For the same reason that I am to be Chancellor rather than Kavich. They have too much pride. They have not seen what the Darthur can do. They will never yield to Arin’s demands without a fight. As you said, I have to seize control as quickly and ruthlessly as I can. I cannot take the time to strong arm a bunch of governors. I will be forever herding them as they play me off against each other. I need absolute control. I need men who will do what is required without reservation.” Ipid realized he was growling by the end, hand clenched, jaw locked, muscles tight. He forced himself to relax and sit back in his chair.

  Eia eyed him. “I have to say, I like this side of you. I always wondered how you had built your empire. Now, I see it. I am glad the Darthur did not beat it from you.”

  A loud knock sounded from the door, interrupting the moment. Ipid squeezed Eia’s hand and looked into her eyes. “Almost,” he said. “The Darthur cruelty was like a mirror to me. I saw myself in it and was repulsed. I swore to do better, to treat my people with kindness. But you showed me that it is not kindness that they need. It is only my ruthlessness that will save them. My kindness is what will get them killed.”

  There was another knock, louder and impatient. Eia was smiling, watching him from beneath her long, nearly translucent lashes. He squeezed her hand once more and called, “Enter.” The door swung open, revealing Liano. Ipid’s guts twisted in anticipation of the message the wizard carried. He forced himself to breathe.

  The wizard slid into the room. His hood rose, and just enough of the light from the sun setting behind them made it through to show his short beard, wide nose, and dark eyes. He looked toward Eia, eyes dwelling there for a long moment. Ipid could almost feel his shock through the shadows. “Sister,” he finally greeted, “does the Belab know about this?” His hood remained locked on the great pink bow at her back.

  “He does not, but I am sure you will tell him soon enough,” Eia responded with a laugh that did not fit her tone. “I am Lord Ronigan’s new wife. Aren’t you happy for us? I’m sorry I could not invite you to the joining, but it was all so sudden.”

  Liano seemed to have all the humor of a Darthur. He stepped back, stuttering, hood shifting from Eia to Ipid and back again. Eia’s eventual laughter only seemed to set him back further. “Liano, my dear boy. You are far too young to be so serious. And handsome too.” She turned to Ipid. “You can’t tell it through those
robes, but he is a truly lovely boy. If he had come to us prior to the Darthur, he most certainly would have found his way to my chambers.” Her eyes bounced between the two men, watched their equally horrified expressions. She laughed again. “I might have even let him stay.”

  “It is a show,” Ipid explained to spare the poor boy. “I need Eia to advise me and read the people around me, but I do not want them to know that she is te-am ‘eiruh.” Liano’s scowl showed that he remained unconvinced. “I ordered her to wear this,” Ipid tried again. “You cannot believe how she fought me, but I insisted.”

  “I see,” Liano said uncertain. He continued to eye Eia, making it clear that he was not comfortable around her.

  “Will you join us for dinner?” Ipid asked, though he barely restrained his need to know the results of the wizard’s mission.

  “No, I have come to deliver a message, then I will leave you.” He was stiff and formal. Ipid could see how Eia would not be his favorite member of their order.

  “Well, let’s have it.” Ipid wiped his mouth with the cloth spread across his lap and pushed his plate away. He suppressed his revulsion as he watched the sauce jiggle around the bones and scales.

  “The knights will return tomorrow,” Liano announced as if reading a proclamation. “Arin says that you have been placed in charge of this nation, so all its resources are at your disposal.” He paused, glanced at Eia. “Is there anything else, Lord Ronigan?”

  “Not now,” Ipid said in way of dismissal. “Tomorrow, I would like you to start thinking about how we can clear paths to the bridges. Arin is surely going to want to use them, and the roads are impassible. I think that your abilities might be especially helpful in that effort. That is all.”

  Ipid finished, but Liano did not move. He stood as rigid as a statue. Unsure, Ipid glanced at Eia. She laughed. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “It is a strange use of my powers,” Liano stammered, eyes locked on Eia.

  “The Belab tells me that you were spiritual leaders and advocates of peace before the Darthur came. Surely you can use your powers for a purpose other than destruction?”

  “I am sure that was true,” Liano answered, unsure. “But I was tested and trained only after the Belab surrendered to the Darthur. I have never. . . .”

  “We don’t build,” Eia cut in. “Though our order came to be teachers and lovers of peace, our gifts came from Hilaal. Ours is the ability to circumvent the Order, to break natural laws. It is powered by chaos, by freewill and irrationality and emotion. To make something is to use the Order, to understand and wield Its laws. Though we are not opposed to that, it is not how our gifts work.”

  Ipid’s mind swam. “I don’t understand. So you can only use your powers to destroy things?”

  “It is not that simple. We break natural laws. We can make a stone explode, because exploding is not within the nature of a stone. We can make the air burn because that is not the nature of air. We can bend space to create portals because that is not the nature of space. But we cannot make a tree grow, cannot heal wounds, cannot shape stones, make the wind blow, or the rain stop. All those things are manipulations of the Order, and that is not the nature of our gift. Do you understand now?”

  “But you could turn stone to water, or make it fly, or simply transport it away?”

  “I suppose those things would be possible if Liano knows how to use the gift in that way. You see, our gift requires specific manipulations. We speak words, make gestures in ways that break down the natural laws in question. If we do not know the words and gestures required, we cannot break the law. The Belab is the only . . . .”

  “Sister!” Liano cut Eia off with a hiss. “You should not . . . .”

  “You dare!” Eia hissed back. “I have tolerated enough from you. I am Caliele Za’. You have no right question me.” Her face took on a fury that Ipid had never seen but had certainly imagined while trapped in his cellar. She gestured and Liano’s head snapped. He staggered, nearly brought his hand up, then forced it down and stepped back.

  “I am sorry,” he mumbled. “I forgot myself.”

  Eia laughed. Ipid looked on horrified. She had just punished the young man, had done something to him simply because he interrupted her. The sudden fury and the power behind it were terrifying. He did not know what to make of it, but he made a note – as if it were needed – to never underestimate her.

  “As I was saying,” Eia continued with another hard look at Liano. “The Belab is the exception. He does not need to know the words and gestures. He may still say them or make them, but they come to him at his bidding. He can break any tenant of the Order he chooses, at any time. The only thing he needs is sufficient emotional energy. That is why your son is so dangerous. With a thought, he could snuff out countless lives, make the entire sky burn, turn a city to ash. It is not like a Belan, such as Liano, who must learn the proper manipulations, who is limited by his knowledge and study. Do you now see why it is so important that he be trained?”

  “I see,” Ipid said, though he didn’t. His son was the last thing he wanted to deal with at the moment. “So returning to the task at hand, Liano, can you think of some creative ways to use your powers that will help us clear the city center?”

  It took the young man several anxious seconds to respond. His hood remained locked on the floor, and he seemed to be swaying slightly. “I will do what I can,” he finally muttered.

  “Thank you. I will send you with the city watch at first light. You can look at what you face and begin to formulate a plan before the workers arrive in the coming days.”

  “As you say, my lord. May I now be dismissed?” Liano’s voice had lost all its force. He seemed almost to be begging.

  “You may. Please, report back to me tomorrow evening.”

  “Thank you, Lord Ronigan.” He nearly ran from the room, black robe rustling about him.

  “I am sorry you had to see that,” Eia said when he had gone. “He is young and new to our order. Most of the Caliele were killed by the Darthur and few have been trained since. The new Belan sometimes forget that we are their equal in the eyes of Hilaal and more that I am one of the ancients and need to be respected as such. I cannot allow such slights to go unpunished or my position will truly be what they imply. I am sure you understand.”

  Ipid did. He was no stranger to putting uppity subordinates in their place, but that did not reassure him. Maybe it was because Eia was a woman, maybe because her anger was so out of character, or maybe because of the violence it solicited, but Ipid could not reconcile it. The only thing that disturbed him more was the fact that she had called herself “ancient.” Given the nature of her powers, he suddenly wondered who – or what – she really was.

  “I’m going to go check on my dresses,” she interrupted his thoughts. “Would you like to accompany me? You can be the first to see them.” She clasped his hand across the desk. Ipid caught her eye then looked to the pile of papers he had pushed aside to make room for his meal.

  “I’d better finish these proclamations. They need to be ready before I become Chancellor, and I still don’t have all the wrinkles ironed out.” He sat back, pulling his arm from Eia and rubbed his throbbing head. “It would help if I had an order advisor or a proper secretary.”

  Eia rose from her chair and came to stand behind him. She rubbed at his shoulders and neck. “There is nothing to do about it now.” She lowered her head so that her lips brushed his ear and wisps of hair tickled his cheek and nose. “Perhaps, you should focus on the things you can do now.” She moved around to sit on his lap. “Like me.” Her head came up and her lips found his. Ipid kissed her, but his mind was not in it. His eyes found the half-finished proclamations even as his lips moved on hers.

  Eia pulled away and stood. “Work on your proclamations,” she snapped. “I won’t share you with pieces of paper.” She ran her fingers through the hair at the side of his head then clenched until he gasped. “It is our first married night. You cannot deny a
bride her first night. I will be waiting, but do not come until you can think of me instead of your papers.” She kissed him again hard enough to take his breath then nipped his lip with her teeth to leave the taste of blood in his mouth to replace that of her breath.

  She rose and walked from the room, sauntering in the ridiculous child’s dress.

  And Ipid just stared. He rubbed his lip then looked at the blood smeared across the back of his hand. He adjusted himself, felt himself throbbing for what he had just sent away, and tried to return to his work. Except now it was Eia that filled his thoughts, and the papers were the distraction.

  Chapter 25

  The 24th Day of Summer

  The boat arrived at Wildern three days later. Dasen steered it to a grove of trees hanging over the bank and tied off on one of the branches.

  “Smoke,” Teth said from her position at the front of the boat. She did not point or place any emotion in the word. It had been that way for two days now, and Dasen no longer expected anything more.

  At least she was moving. The previous day, she had climbed out of the bed and come up onto the deck. She had spent the day sitting on the bow with her feet hanging over the edge just looking at the river, staying as far from him as she could. Dasen had made several attempts to talk to her, but she had just stared. That is until he tied off the rudder and tried to sit with her, tried to touch her. Then she had jumped away and stared at him not with anger but pleading, begging him with her eyes to keep away. He had seen no choice but to listen.

  Today, she had slept far past the dawn, had wandered aimlessly around the boat, and pushed food around on her plate, but she had moved, had eaten, had even spoken a few inconsequential words. It was something. After that first day, Dasen had thought long on her and decided that he didn’t need to know what was wrong. After all they’d been through, it hurt him more than he’d ever admit that she could not confide in him, but he also knew that he could not force her. He needed to take care of her now just has she had cared for him in the forest. He remembered that time, remembered how they had eventually come to trust and understand one another. He could only hope that this was the same, that time would heal whatever this was, that she would find her way back to him, that they could somehow reclaim what they’d had before.

 

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