The False Martyr

by H. Nathan Wilcox

  “I . . . I don’t . . . how can you . . . .”

  “For the next several weeks, you will organize and plan. You will tell your supporters that you see a way for me to be overthrown, but only if I become overconfident. You will sanction only minimal dissent prior to that. There should be just enough to keep the soldiers nervous, enough to keep them focused and vigilant. Di Valati Wallock will work with you behind the scenes. The Church, though seeming to support me, can be a refuge and source of organization for you.”

  “But I have promised . . . .”

  “I don’t care that you have made agreements with other valati. Wallock is Di Valati, and you will work with him.” Ipid took a breath, remembered his purpose, forced himself to be the model of detachment. None of this is personal, he reminded himself. The only thing that matters is that he does exactly what he’s told.

  Ipid waited until he had Allard’s full attention, until he had reordered his thoughts regarding the hierarchy of the Church. “The tensions will grow, of course. You will allow your followers to do just enough to keep their rage in check, but nothing to disrupt the flow of food and men to the invaders.” He paused to emphasize the point. “I will repeat. You, your followers, their followers will do nothing to disrupt the flow of goods and men to the invaders. Is that clear?”

  Allard looked toward the ceiling, cane tapping on the floor as he thought. “It can be done, but not for very long.”

  “I need four weeks, maybe less. After that, the invaders will be satisfied and will move on. When they go, I go.”

  “And that is how you can make this offer?” Allard smiled genuinely for the first time.

  “Yes. When the time comes, I will send you a message. You, your men, the members of parliament, the former governors, anyone who needs to burnish their reputation with the distinction of ‘hero’ will descend on Wildern. You will stage a daring attack on your own estate. Seeing your unification and resolve, I will flee. You will be a hero. The invaders will be gone. Parliament will meet and elect you as the next Chancellor. You will bind the nation together after our struggles and rebuild as the man who overthrew a tyrant. You will have everything you desire and the Kingdoms will have a chance at peace when this is over. Do you see now why I have spared you?”

  Allard Stully stroked his cane in contemplation. “My father used to say that deals are like women, the ones you crave most are the ones that will break your heart. Far better, he said, to look for the skinny ones, the splotchy ones, the ones with tangled hair. Those, he said, can be fattened, cleared, and combed to beauty without ever knowing their true value. This deal seems far too flawless. I feel like the boy, first drinks still burning in his throat, who finds himself in the arms of the tavern’s most beautiful woman. He thinks himself the luckiest lad in the world until the deed is done and she states her price. So where are the pimples, Lord Chancellor? What is your price?”

  Ipid could not help but smile. He was on familiar ground now, discussing contract terms with a fellow man of business. “In order to save this nation, I must wring it dry. I must drive it to the edge of starvation and ruin, must steal all its protectors, and work it to the bone. You will not inherit the same Kingdoms you have known. To use your analogy, you will inherit a woman who has been beaten bloody. She is beautiful, but only if you can somehow nurse her back to health. And even then, the scars may be unsightly.”

  Allard stared at Ipid for a long time, held his eye. Finally, he rose, nearly leaping from his seat, and rapped his cane on the table. “I accept! But I have one concession and one stipulation. The concession is that I do not control Dorington. Lord Bairn will not join me. He sees this as his chance to break away from the Kingdoms and restore the South as its own nation.”

  “So I have heard,” Ipid admitted. “I appreciate your honesty, but I think this will work in our favor.”

  “In our favor? As goes Dorington, so goes the South. It is militarily the strongest city in the Kingdoms. You cannot hope to meet the invaders’ terms without it, and I cannot fix these Kingdoms if I start my rule with a civil war.”

  “I will take care of Dorington. Whatever happens there, wash your hands of it. Do not allow their rebellion to spread, but do not oppose it either.” Ipid could not help but sigh. He knew what had to happen should Lord Bairn follow the path he had chosen, but that did not mean he had to like it. “Let Lord Bairn be. Neither threaten nor cajole him. Let him have his uprising. When the time is right, he will serve as the final catalyst you need to solidify your support.”

  “As you say, Lord Chancellor.”

  “And your stipulation?”

  “My family. I wish my family to be spared from all this. I’d like your assurance that they will not be used as pawns against me.”

  Ipid nodded, thinking of how his own son was being used against him. “We’re all pawns now, Allard, but I have no quarrel with your family. My deal is with you, and that is how it will remain.”

  Allard let out a great breath as if that had been his only hope all along. He stood, looked around the room, then motioned to a cart near the door. “Shall we drink to our partnership?”

  “I must depart,” Ipid replied. “Ambassador an’ Pmalatir will return in a few days. He will help you with the governors and parliamentarians in any way required. He will also provide me with regular reports on your progress and help coordinate our activities. As you said, it is well known that he will not deal with me. This makes him the ideal conduit. I will do nothing to oppose you or your allies as long as you keep them under control. I will not demean either of us with further threats about failure or betrayal. We both know where our interests lie and what we must do to see them fulfilled.”

  Allard stopped his progress toward the crystal decanters and turned to see his guest off. “I agree with you completely and think we have come to the rare arrangement that benefits all parties equally. I can see no reason for it to go foul. I am surprised to say that I am sorry to see you go. Will you leave as you came?”

  “Yes. Unfortunately, it is not as easy as it seems.”

  Perfectly on cue, shouts rose from across the grounds. “Riders! Riders approaching!”

  Allard’s head snapped toward Ipid. His eyes grew wide. He drew up his cane as if he might use it as a weapon. His bodyguards tensed, hands gripping the rapiers at their sides. “What . . . what is this?” he stammered.

  “The te-am ‘eiruh need emotion to use their powers,” Ipid explained. “We needed to create some anxiety in order to return to Wildern.” Shouts, the sounds of panic, rose from the grounds. Hooves crunched across gravel. A voice rose over it all, demanding the presence of Allard Stully.

  “What’s happening? What was all this we just discussed?” Allard looked on the edge of hysteria. His guards had drawn their swords and were advancing.

  Ipid glanced behind him to Liano. He nodded, black hood rising and falling a single time. “Nothing will come of it,” Ipid promised. “You will spend a couple of days in a cell. The grain you have hidden will be confiscated. As will this house, your lands, warehouses, and boats. But your increased credibility with the resistance will more than make up for it, and you can reclaim all those things when you are Chancellor.” Allard looked on in shock as Ipid explained. Shouts rose, accompanied by a few screams. A door crashed open. Allard Stully’s name rang through the halls. “Ambassador an’ Pmalatir will see to your release. You will go into hiding with your family. It will not be the life you are used to, but it is only for a few weeks.”

  Ipid felt the tug at his emotions as Liano created the portal behind him. “Goodbye, Allard,” Ipid said with a small bow. “I will be in touch.” He turned and walked through the portal just as the door to the chamber crashed open, wood splintering where the lock was torn from the sash.

  “Allard Stully?” a familiar voice bellowed. Field Marshal Landon stepped out from behind two men who crouched in the doorway with crossbows ready. Another dozen soldiers crowded the hall behind him. Lamplight glistened f
rom his steel breastplate and the long blade of his sword. “You are under arrest by order of the Chancellor. Tell your men to drop their weapons.”

  Ipid did not see if the order was followed. He was pulled into a vortex of swirling black and was gone.

  Chapter 38

  The 33rd Day of Summer

  “Kian and his gang have gone out,” Mark told Dasen, though he hadn’t asked. “He said you two are supposed to stay here and rest.” The innkeeper licked his lips. His eyes scanned Dasen up and down then looked around him into the room.

  “Okay,” Dasen said. “That's good.” He realized only then how ungrateful he sounded and added quickly, “I mean, we’ve had a hard few weeks. We could use the time.” He tried to keep his voice low so that he would not disturb Teth, who was just stirring in the bed behind him. He stepped aside to allow the innkeeper and his tray into the room then motioned toward the bed in hope that he would keep quiet.

  The innkeeper set his tray on the table with a clattering of dishes. He winced. “Sorry, I don’t usually do the deliveries, but I wanted to see you. I heard about what you’d been through. I wanted to say, I’m sorry. I can only imagine how hard that must have been.”

  “Thank you. We ah . . . .” Dasen did not know what else to say. What had the innkeeper heard? That he had used his powers to kill hundreds on the fields outside Thoren? Why did that earn him sympathy? He looked back at Teth to keep from saying more. She was sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

  Mark watched Dasen then Teth with sympathetic eyes. He reached a hand out and patted Dasen’s arm. “You’re safe here,” he assured. “Kian told us what you’ve faced, and we’re on board with helping. My wife and I worked out a plan last night to keep you hidden. When we’re done with the morning service, we’ll be up to give you all the details. In the meantime, I’m having some clothes sent up. My wife is altering them now. For now, just keep to the room. All the rooms down this hall have been given over to Kian and his gang, so you're safe enough here, but the rest of the inn is packed to bursting, and I can’t guarantee someone won’t recognize you, especially now that you’ve cleaned up. Once you’re comfortable with your costumes, you'll have more freedom, but for now just stay here.” He eyed them both until they nodded.

  Dasen couldn’t imagine a disguise good enough for him to leave this room. “I think I'll be happy to stay here,” he told the innkeeper as he turned to leave.

  “Don't worry,” Mark assured. “When Margot is done, your own mothers won't recognize you.” He looked at Dasen then toward Teth with a smile.

  Dasen felt his stomach flip. He found Teth. She looked like she’d been slapped.

  Mark must have seen the expression as well. “Well maybe your mothers could spot you in a fall cornfield, but your mothers aren't looking, so trust me, as long as you don't give away the costumes, they won't give you away.”

  “It's not that,” Dasen said embarrassed. “Our mothers are dead. They died in a fire when Teth and I were little.” He looked at Teth expecting to see her collapse into tears, but she was looking away, seemingly in another world.

  “I'm sorry. I . . . I didn't mean . . . I’m sorry.” Mark looked honestly sad. “I should get back to my other guests. I'll be back with my wife when we have a break. Just relax until then. You look like you’ve been through the Maelstrom.”

  “We very nearly have,” Dasen agreed and looked toward Teth. The innkeeper followed his eyes. His expression turned sad as if somehow sharing the sorrow she’d carried the past week. “Thank you,” Dasen finished as Mark pulled his eyes from Teth and slipped back out the door, closing it firmly behind him.

  Dasen wondered if he should use the key on the desk to lock it. He turned to the tray instead, lifting the lids off the china dishes – it appeared that they had, at least, found their way to an upscale inn. Stomach rumbling, he inspected two plates of eggs with smoked fish and another of toasted wheat bread. A small pitcher of milk and a pot of jam accompanied the feast.

  Behind him, Teth rose and walked to the table’s other side. She looked tired, sad, apprehensive. Her hair was standing in clumps and her face was creased from her pillow, but Dasen felt his heart skip at the sight of her in the long nightshirt – another night of disappointment seemed only to have heightened his desire.

  “Ah . . . looks like a feast,” he started. He tried to keep his voice bright and positive, tried to forget how they had left things the night before, tried to look away from his wife, to find something else to hold his attention. But his eyes had a mind of their own. They returned, darting from her pale-blue eyes, to her lips, to the outline of her breasts, to her bare feet.

  “I’m sorry, Dasen,” she blurted. She took a deep breath and steadied herself. Her lower lip crept between her teeth and her arms crossed her chest. Her eyes turned to the floor then the window, finally to him, then down again. “I’m sorry. You do not deserve . . . . I mean, you haven’t done anything. You’ve been so patient and kind, and . . . .” Teth took another deep breath. She tried to meet his eyes but seemed unable to keep them. “. . . and well, I’m sorry. I just . . . I’m sorry.” She pressed her arms around herself as if freezing and chewed her lips so that Dasen expected to see blood.

  “I . . . I know you’ve been sad,” he managed after the silence had stretched into a fidgeting infinity. “And I . . . I understand. I mean . . . I . . . after everything we’ve been through . . . I mean, I can understand how that would . . . . “

  “That’s not it,” Teth interrupted without looking at him. “I mean that’s part of it, but . . . .”

  The silence sat until her eyes found the courage to rise. The look there made Dasen’s stomach churn. What happened? he wanted to scream at her. The imagining had to be worse than knowing, at least that was what he told himself.

  “Did they . . .” he began when she did not offer anything further. “I mean did the men in that commune . . . did they . . . ?” Dasen could not seem to force himself to say it. He stumbled not even knowing how to express the horrible thoughts that were consuming him.

  “Oh,” Teth finally seemed to follow his thoughts. “Is that what you’ve been thinking?” She paused seemed to think about that and let it reorder her thoughts. “I . . . I’m sorry. I guess I can see how you’d . . . . but no. The Weavers didn’t touch me. They didn’t want anything to do with me really. Mostly they just ignored me, but. . . .” Again her lip crept between her teeth, her arms went back around her chest, hands kneading her arms.

  “I found out some things . . . .” she said decisively, then lost it just as fast. She chewed her lip, leaving Dasen hanging like a convict waiting for the word that will bring the axe down. “I can’t tell you,” she finally seemed to decide. Dasen opened his mouth, but Teth stopped him with a raised hand. “I just can’t, okay. I can’t.” She panted as if that burst had left her exhausted.

  “But it is just me. I promise. It has nothing to do with you. You have been so kind and patient. I haven’t deserved any of it, and it makes me feel so much worse about . . . all this.” She paused, wiped away a tear, and took a long breath. Dasen tried to interject, to reassure her, but she held up a hand. “Wait. You need to know. It’s not you. It is just something that . . . well, it is something that made me see the world in a different way, and I didn’t much like the way the world looked after that, and I couldn’t get it out of my head, and it made me so tired, that I didn’t want do anything. Do you understand?”

  Dasen nodded. “I . . . I think so. But you’re better now? You see that the world isn’t so bad? I mean at least we have each other. We have food and a place to sleep. The Order is obviously protecting us. How bad can things be?”

  Teth nearly choked. She coughed then tried to match his smile, but her face collapsed like glass struck by a rock. She fought a sob, brought her hands to her eyes, and sighed. “I’m sorry, Dasen. You’re right, but I need some time. I see a way through it now. Yesterday, I realized that I had an alternative, but it will take some time, and I n
eed some space to get there. Can you understand? Can you give me that?”

  “Of . . . of course,” he stammered, wanting to scream the opposite. By the Order, I want her, he thought. Even wasted and miserable, he could only imagine kissing her, grabbing her, taking her to the bed. He forced the thoughts away, but the need did not go. He felt it like an ache. How much patience can one man have? He could not see her without wanting to touch her, even in small ways, without wanting to hold her hand, caress her neck, run his fingers through her hair. And then to sleep in the same bed, to share the same chambers, to be locked in this room day after day. . . . “I . . . I . . . whatever you need . . . I,” he could not make himself say that he understood, that he agreed.

  To his surprise, her arms wrapped around him. His eyes had been so firmly diverted that he did not even see her approach, and she nearly squeezed the air from him. “I’m sorry,” she said into his chest. “I’m so sorry. I hope you will forgive me. I love you, but it’s the only way.”

  Dasen put his arms around her, but she was as stiff as a board, lacking even the slightest intimacy. She had meant exactly what she said. She was separating herself from him. Already she was saying goodbye.

  #

  The dress was far too big for Teth, and the pants were far too small for Dasen. They looked at each other, and Teth started to laugh. It was the first time she had laughed in weeks, and Dasen just watched her in shock, fighting to keep a smile from his face. “No!” he said. “This is a joke.”

  “Where did they even find this dress?” Teth asked between pants. “Is there a woman in the world who is this tall?” She held out the layers of pale pink silk, white lace, and rose-colored embroidery and carried it to Dasen. “By the Order, it’s perfect!”

  Dasen snatched it from her. “It’s a joke. Our friends here must have a sense of humor, because there is no chance that I could pass as a woman. It’s the most ridiculous idea ever. They’re going to walk through that door in a few minutes laughing their heads off. They’re probably calling the soldiers now so that I can be arrested wearing a dress. Imagine . . . .”