The False Martyr

by H. Nathan Wilcox

  “What do you do now?” Ipid asked, forcing his voice to be aloof. He desperately wanted to dive into the process, to wrap his arm around the foreman, discuss leverage points and mechanical force. Certainly, he was no engineer, but he had spent enough time with them to know the basics, and like any good manager he could not help his desire to put his nose in every piece of the business. Yet here he had to fight that urge. He was not the foreman’s friend, his confidant, his collaborator. He was his master. This man and all his fellows were a means to an end. They deserved all the attention that a carpenter gives his hammer.

  “Well, sir,” the foreman looked back at the slab of stone angled above the ground. He remained standing well back from the Chancellor, outside the loose ring of warriors who had dismounted and arrayed themselves around the coach. “It depends . . . .”

  “Depends on what?” Ipid asked, fighting his desire to walk over to the slab and inspect the supports. He could see now that they were not simple stands, but rather had a screw mechanism built into them with a crank at the side.

  “On me,” a familiar voice said before the foreman could answer. Ipid turned to see Liano step through one of his portals. “Lord Chancellor,” he greeted with a bow then floated toward them, feet entirely hidden beneath the hem of his robe so that he seemed to take no steps. The hood was pulled up around his face, but in the bright of the day, it could not hide his handsome features. “I am sorry I was not here to greet you. I was at another site, and it took longer than I expected to complete my work.”

  “Liano,” Ipid greeted warmly. He had no actual affection for the wizard but knew the power that the appearance of such would have among the workers – they needed to be constantly reminded that he was the only thing keeping them from the Exiles’ destructive powers. “So you have found a way to clear the roads?”

  Liano’s hood rose at Ipid’s tone. He was still clearly not used to being commanded by someone outside his order, but he, thankfully, did not make a point of it here. His eyes glanced to Eia, and his face stiffened. Ipid followed but saw nothing more on Eia’s face than the indifferent, mildly confused look that she had taken as her regular mask. “Lord Chancellor,” Liano finally answered. “I will demonstrate.”

  “All men back,” the foreman bellowed as Liano turned. The workers scattered, scrambling up, around, and through the rubble to get clear of the slab they had elevated. Ipid looked to Liano. The man stood profile to him now, but he could see his hands twitching in his sleeves. Ipid felt the, now familiar, tug as his emotions were pulled away. The men around the slab of stone stopped their retreat. They looked confused, stared blankly, were lost. The stone started to come apart. At first, Ipid thought it was melting, then he realized that it was just breaking apart. The small grains and pebbles that made up the sedimentary stone simply stopped holding together. Starting at the top of the structure and flowing down the angle, the rock turned into course sand and rock until it was nothing more than a pile at the side of the road.

  A man screamed, the sound cut off by the great rush of stones. Ipid’s eyes shot to the base of the stone slab and watched as rock poured over a man who had not moved fast enough to escape the avalanche. The man fought, but his legs were already caught. Sand and stone rained on him, accumulated around him, covered him, crept up his body until it closed on his face and his screaming stopped.

  “Get him out of there!” the foreman called. His eyes were on Liano, filled with disgust. The workers likewise stared at him with loathing before scrambling to save their friend.

  Ipid could not keep the shock from his face and only just kept himself from berating Liano on the spot. Biting his tongue so that he could barely manage words, he finally said, “Liano, could you join me in my coach?”

  The wizard’s cowl turned to Ipid, showing his concern. “In a moment.” He turned back to the scene and watched as the desperate workers shoveled sand away from their fellow. A dozen of them worked at it, moving with wild urgency until they reached the man’s head and slowly – oh so slowly – cleared his face. The man drew a great breath, gulping and choking for air. The entire worksite gave a sigh of relief, but it was soon replaced by grumbling and venomous stares that were barely suppressed by the power of the two men at whom they were directed.

  “I can join you now,” Liano said as he climbed the steps to the coach.

  Ipid followed him, motioning Jon to remain outside as he and Eia nearly collided as they attempted to climb up after him. The chief advisor, offered a hand to Eia then walked to speak with the foreman. Inside the coach, Ipid was rounding on Liano, preparing to rip him up one side then back down the other. A cool hand stopped him. He looked around at Eia, brown eyes. They were compassionate, expression sad.

  “He had to,” she said. “My dear, do you see how it has hurt him.” She motioned to Liano, but Ipid could not see anything through the man’s downturned hood. “He was horrified by seeing that man buried and could not move from his spot until he saw him rescued. He was literally paralyzed by what he had done, but it was necessary.”

  “How is that necessary?” Ipid asked, indignant. “He only needed to wait another minute for the men to be clear. It wouldn’t have cost anything.”

  “It would have cost everything.”

  “I know what you think,” Liano interjected, hood rising to show his dark features. He looked cowed, but Ipid saw no sorrow in his eyes. “You think me cruel and uncaring, but if I am to do what you ask, I must have power to call upon. As you saw, we have developed a system that works. I considered many options, but none was practical – making the rock explode would cause far more injuries than you just saw; turning it to water was far too great a change in the Order for me, transporting it away only works if someone pushes it through the portal. In the end, I realized that these stones are all made of other tiny stones held together by the Order. Breaking that law is relatively easy. The stones are transformed into piles of pebbles and sand that can easily be shoveled from the road, or if propped as that one was, caused to flow off the road directly.”

  “That’s all fine,” Ipid snapped. “I agree with the idea. But there is no reason for it to be dangerous. On the contrary, it sounds very safe if you do it properly.”

  “That is the problem,” Eia supplied. “Liano, dear boy, has come up with such an excellent solution to the problem that it eliminates his very ability to do it.”

  “What?” Ipid shook his head. “Stop talking in riddles.”

  “I need a source for the power I draw upon,” Liano explained. “If I were to simply change the stones to sand and allow men to scoop them away, there would be no risk. The men would have hard work, but no fear. Without that fear, I am powerless, I cannot use my gift to break the laws of the Order. I can only clear the roads safely if the men believe it to be unsafe.”

  Ipid sat back. He saw it all now. The avoidable accidents were exactly what made the transformation possible. Without them, the men would have to lift the stones manually and find someplace to put them among the rubble that surrounded them. Far more men would be hurt, and it would take vastly longer. He sighed. “I see. But the men must know that the risk is avoidable.”

  “Surely, Lord Chancellor. But if I avoid the risk, they will no longer be afraid.”

  “Has anyone died?”

  Liano’s hood went back to the floor of the coach. “No. Some men have been badly hurt. In the beginning, I had to give them serious reasons to fear what I would do, and I was still refining this use of my gift. I fear that some of the men who were injured may not have lived, but they were not dead when they were taken from here. I try not to dwell on them.”

  “You see,” Eia said. “You are breaking the poor boy’s heart. This is why we seldom used our powers before the Darthur came. We were, in fact, forbidden from creating strife to use our gifts. If someone was already in danger or pain, we could use that emotion to help them, but such as this would not have been allowed. The Darthur made us more pragmatic. We realize now th
at lives must sometimes be sacrificed so that far more may be saved. It is the same reason we destroyed Thoren and these two districts of your city.”

  “I see,” Ipid held up a hand to cut off her lecture. “But these people will see that only as a callous disregard for their lives. Such as this will turn them against us faster than hard work and depravation ever could.”

  “Regrettably, yes. Would you rather that Liano not use his power?” Eia asked the question honestly, leaving the decision to him.

  “No,” he admitted. He ran his fingers through his hair and stared at the ceiling of the coach. “It will take too long and far more men will die. Though they would blame those deaths on the Order rather than me, I would have to carry the burden.”

  “As you wish, Lord Chancellor,” Liano nodded. “May I now return to my work?”

  “Of course. I will accompany you.”

  “You must accept this,” Eia whispered urgently. “Do not allow these people to think that you disagree? They must not think that Liano is somehow outside of your control or favor. It would undermine both you and him and would result only in more men being hurt.”

  Ipid nodded as he followed the wizard from the coach. He waited a moment outside for his eyes to adjust, fixed a scowl on his face, and looked toward the men. Several were still digging their fellow from the sand. He appeared to be shaken but unharmed. Others were using shovels to scoop gravel from the road where the angle had not been enough. Their eyes darted to Liano and Ipid with uncertainty. They wanted to know if their Chancellor had just admonished his henchman, had stood up for their safety. Ipid had to disavow them of the notion.

  “Your methods are excellent,” he addressed Liano. “But you must move faster. Stay here, work on this road until it is clear. I don’t care what you have to do. You will clear a way to that bridge. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Lord Chancellor.” Liano turned back to the worksite, gliding off as if floating.

  “And you.” Ipid pointed toward the foreman, who was still engaged with Jon.

  “Nebbel, Lord Chancellor, Orin Nebbel.”

  “I don’t recall asking. If your men cannot get themselves out of the way when Liano uses his power, they will be buried, and we will not spare the effort to free them. The invaders have no time for your bumbling, and neither do I. Open this road. I want all efforts focused here. The other bridges can wait. You have three days. Do you understand?”

  “Sir,” the man stammered, deep voice faltering for the first time. He looked toward the span of the bridge in the distance, eyes wide. He licked his lips. “We will try . . . .”

  “You will succeed,” Ipid demanded. “You will never say the word ‘try’ to me again. Now, get those men to work or I will find someone who can, and you can join the crew.”

  “Yes, Lord Chancellor,” the man stammered. He turned to the workers and began to shout commands. The workers groaned. The foreman increased his exhortations. Heart nearly pounding through his chest, Ipid forced his face to remain stern as he watched the men, saw the hatred in their eyes, and wondered how long it would be limited to venomous looks.

  Chapter 32

  The 30th Day of Summer

  No matter of groping at the empty sheets was going to make them fill. Ipid knew this, but his sleep-addled mind could not seem to grasp the simple concept. He pawed at the bed, slid his body across it, squirmed and reached until he came to the end and looked up. Eia was not there. He could still smell her, the sheets were still warm from her body, slightly damp from her sweat. With a groan, he remembered how sleep had claimed him. Again, he had not been able to satisfy her. His mind had been on the faces of the men at the worksite, on their hatred, on the man being buried by stones, on his screams. And nothing that Eia could do had been able to rouse him. She had resigned herself to it with patience – a patience as thin as herself – and said the magical words that seemed to drag away all his worries and allow sleep to take him.

  Now, she was gone, and her teases about finding another lover seemed all too real. His cruel mind generated the images. Eia with one of the Darthur was more laughable than terrifying, but there was the handsome young footman who she had flirted with, the sergeant who had been daring enough to flirt back, Liano, even Jon, who Eia said looked so much like him that she might get them confused. Ipid’s imagination showed him Eia with each of them until he was rising from the bed and casting a satin robe over his back.

  The room was dark, illuminated only by the reflected light of the full moon that stood high above the manor. It was nowhere near the dawn, and Eia was not an early riser even if it were. Still, he chastised himself. Eia teased, but he could not imagine her actually doing it. Teasing is what she does, it means nothing more than that. She is in the toilet or pacing the halls. She will laugh when she catches you looking for her. You’ll never hear the end of it.

  That did not stop him. He yawned deeply as he strode across the floor, Imperial rug soft beneath his feet. The door was already cracked open. It slid the rest of the way toward him without a sound. I’m going to take a piss, he told himself, but he did not turn toward the toilet at the end of the hall. He walked the other direction, toward the stairs that would lead to the rooms where Liano, Jon, and his other close subordinates were housed. He strained to hear the sounds he dreaded: the squeak of a bed, the panting of passion, the cry of release.

  Instead, he heard whispers.

  He froze. The sound was coming from below, from the stairs, rising up just enough for him to hear the movement of the air, to recognize the cadence and tone without being able to decipher the words. Still, there was no doubt that it was Eia. Another voice answered. This one familiar, but not immediately identifiable.

  Ears straining, heart pounding, stupor abolished, Ipid crept forward. He could not make out the words, but the urgency of the whispers, the speed of the syllables, the pounding of the diction suggested that this was not the conversation of lovers. This was business if Ipid had ever heard it, a serious discussion, with serious ramification, and Eia was having it without him.

  “I fear so,” the unknown voice rose slightly so that Ipid could catch the words. “He may be all the catalyst they need.”

  Eia answered more slowly, words lost.

  “As you wish, my lady,” the voice answered – Ipid almost had it placed. “You know my fear. I will leave it to your discretion.”

  The top of the stair appeared. Ipid placed his hand on the ball atop the railing and eased himself around. Eia caught his eye as soon as it appeared. She watched him, disappointment clear. “He’s here,” she said to the man standing across the staircase from her. Even in the near perfect darkness, Ipid could tell it was Ambassador an’ Pmalatir. “Go now. I will send for you tomorrow.”

  “No,” Ipid managed. “Ambassador, if you have news, you will tell it to me.” He felt his anger rising but managed to keep it under control so as not to rouse the guards or wake the household. What was Eia trying to do? Why was she meeting the man who was to be his eyes and ears without him? Why was she sending him away? Why was he listening to her rather than him?

  “Ambassador an’ Pmalatir is leaving now,” Eia said. “His news is best discussed in the light of the day when all heads are clear.” She climbed the stairs in graceful, effortless strides. Her eyes held his, so that he could not seem to look away. Behind, the Imperial ambassador thumped down the stairs without another word.

  “What . . . where . . . I did not . . . .” Ipid protested, voice rising.

  “Shush,” Eia reached him and put a finger to his lips. “You will simply create a commotion where none is needed. Please, return to the room with me, and I will explain.”

  Ipid allowed her to take his arm and lead him back to the room they shared. Several times he tried to argue. Eia stopped each time with a gentle squeeze of his hand and barely audible “Shush.”

  “I am sorry that you saw that,” she said when he was through the door to the room. She slid it closed behind them until it
latched.

  Ipid turned and looked at her. He was fuming, fighting to keep his voice and fists in check. “Only sorry that I saw it. You are meeting with important officials without me, making decisions without my writ, receiving reports without my leave. What’s more, I haven’t heard anything from that bloated fool since he arrived. If he knows something, I need to hear it.” He paused then realized what he had stumbled upon. “Did Belab send him to serve you instead of me? Is that what’s happening here?”

  “Calm down,” Eia approached and put a hand on his chest.

  Ipid brushed it away. “I will not! Tell me the truth! Tell me what this is all about!”

  “I assure you there is a reason for everything, but now is not the time to discuss it.”

  “Now is the only time. You will answer my questions immediately. I will hear no excuses.”

  Eia cocked her head and looked at him. Was that disappointment in her eyes? Did she think he was some kind of child seeking indulgence? “I am trying to protect you,” she said with a sigh. “The news he brings needs to be considered carefully, with clear eyes.” She sighed again and tried to move toward him. “Trust me that it can wait. Everyone needs sleep, including you. That is far more important than anything you could do with Vontel’s report.”

  “Vontel . . . ? How long have you . . . ?”

  “Shush,” Eia continued easing toward him and put a finger to his mouth. “Are you jealous of that great jelly of a man?” She cocked her head. “Though I hear he has some interesting tastes, I also believe that women share them only through payment or blackmail. Can we return to bed now? I can remove your emotions again if that will help.”

  “No.” Ipid brushed her reaching hands away and retreated another step. “And stop trying to change the subject. This is not about jealousy. This is about my ability to run this nation. I need to know what is happening. I need to know what that bastard knows. Even more, if it is something that will make me lose sleep.”