The False Martyr

by H. Nathan Wilcox

  Teth started crying again. Face in her knees, she felt the fine wool of her pants growing moist from her tears. “I can’t. You don’t understand, but I can’t.” She snuffled and tried to breath, but it was no use, despair had claimed her.

  “I . . . I have to tell you something,” Mrs. Tappers started to say. The door of the room burst open before she could finish.

  “What’s she doing down here?” Kian’s voice cut through the room in a whispered hiss. The door clicked shut behind him. “I thought Garth was watching them.” He stopped suddenly as he saw what was happening in the room.

  Teth brought her face up and watched Mrs. Tappers stare down the burly soldier. “How dare you barge into my room without permission? I don’t care what deal you have with Mark. You will still show me common courtesy.”

  “You have earned no such courtesy,” Kian scoffed. “And as far as this one and her husband are concerned, I will do anything I want to keep them safe. Just remember what will happen if you get in my way, ma’am.”

  Mrs. Tappers jerked back and glared, but the fire was gone from her eyes.

  “Why’s she crying?” Kian asked after a long pause. “What’d you tell her? If you’re filling her up with your twisted thinking, I’ll have your head. Do you understand?”

  “It was me!” Teth rose to her feet. “I started crying and Mrs. Tappers tried to help me. And as for you, I will go wherever I want. I will talk with anyone I please, and you will not threaten them.” She closed on Kian, trying to sound commanding, but her will was far too diminished.

  “That is where you are wrong.” Kian snatched her outstretched finger and twisted it, nearly buckling her knees. He used the finger to hold her up in a rigor mortis of pain. She gasped, but he just drew her into him. “I am in charge here,” he spit the words into her face. “You will do exactly as I say. You will not question me. You will not challenge me. Do you understand?” He twisted her finger until it felt like it would break. Teth nodded. She had no choice but to nod.

  Kian released her. She fell to the floor grasping her hand and panting. Mrs. Tappers was immediately at her side, rubbing her back and trying to inspect her finger. “You’ve made your point. Now, get out!” Her voice was rougher, stronger than Teth had previously heard, as if a damper had been lifted.

  “As you will, my lady.” He flashed his wolfish grin and was gone before Teth could formulate a response. She pounded her good hand into the ground and cursed.

  “It will be alright,” Mrs. Tappers assured her. “He is not nearly as smart as he thinks he is. He has us for now, but the tide will turn soon enough. Soon enough.” She rubbed Teth’s back then rose. “Now, may I get you some tea? I’d like to get to know you better. I suspect that we have a surprisingly large amount in common.”

  Teth snuffled and flexed her finger. Already it was feeling better, probably wouldn’t even be swollen for all the pain it had caused. “I’d like that,” she said and tried to smile.

  #

  “I should probably get back,” Mrs. Tappers said an hour later. “Mark is a better talker than a worker. It’s good for business, but not for actually getting things done, and the dinner service will be starting before we know it.” She looked at Teth with a small smile. For all her talk of them having so much in common, Teth realized that she had no idea what it was since Mrs. Tappers had said hardly a word about herself in the time they had been speaking. Teth felt suddenly guilty that she had not asked her host more questions, that she had spent the entire time telling her about herself without ever telling her who she really was or how she really felt. It had been a conversation, Teth realized, of almost no consequence, and it had been wonderful. It was the first time in weeks that she had felt like a normal person, talking about normal things. Now, she had to go back to Dasen. She dreaded it with all her heart.

  She looked down at the empty plate before her – how many of the little sandwiches had she eaten and not even noticed? There had been a platter of them. It was empty now with only a single section on Mrs. Tappers plate with a single bite missing from a corner. Maybe the matron would allow her to stay here for a while longer. Or maybe she could help with the dinner service. Anything to keep from having to see Dasen, from having to remember what she could never have.

  “No, my dear,” Mrs. Tappers said, obviously reading the desperation on her face. “Go, be with your husband. I used to feel like you. I had done some things that made me feel as if I had lost the Order entirely. I could not imagine how anyone could ever accept me, but the Order bless him, Mark did. He knew exactly what I had done, exactly who I was. He accepted me anyway. And eventually, I realized that what the counselors had always told me about the Order was wrong. We are all part of It, are made by It to be what we are. The only way we can defy It is to stop being what It has made us to be. Do you understand?” She paused and watched Teth. She knew that Mrs. Tappers was saying something more than her words, but she could not place it. “Dasen accepts you for what you are. He knows what you’ve done, and he doesn’t care. The Order is the same. It made you. You cannot defy It by being what you were made to be.”

  Teth felt the words tearing through her. Mrs. Tappers was, of course, correct. Teth was exactly what the Order had made her, but that Order was not the benevolent thing that Mrs. Tappers thought It to be. The Order that had created Teth was the work of a demented old man, and he had built her for no other purpose than to suffer. Somehow, she did not cry. Rather, she felt her resolve strengthen. Even Mrs. Tappers had said it. We only escape the Order by acting against what we are.

  “Thank you,” she said. She stood and hugged her host. It seemed to take Mrs. Tappers by surprise. “You are right. I will try.”

  Mrs. Tappers took her hand and turned her to the door. “We will talk again, my dear. I am glad that the Order has brought you to us. We all need to be reminded occasionally of where we are and how we got there.”

  She moved to the door and opened it. “I will have a tray brought to your room in two hours,” she said loudly as she issued Teth into the empty hall. “Thank you for telling me of your journey, Master Esther. I hope that we can provide you with everything you need in these trying times. Please, feel free to find me at any time.”

  “Thank you as well, Mrs. Tappers,” Teth said as a man in a dark suit walked past them. “I feel much comforted for having spoken with you. I will try not to take so much of your time in the future.”

  “It is not a problem at all. You are my guest. I am here to serve you in any way I can. Now, have a good and restful night.”

  “And you.”

  The door closed behind her as Teth turned down the hall toward the stairs that would lead back to her room and Dasen. She walked slowly, sighing with every step for her dread, and nearly ran into Garth.

  “Master Esther,” the Morg said. “I have been looking for you. I trust you are well.”

  “I am fine, thank you,” Teth replied, trying to feign the air of regal disregard she’d be expected to show a servant. “I have been with the lady of the house. She has been most gracious.”

  “I am glad to hear it.” Garth watched the halls around him, clearly uncomfortable with his role. Teth followed his eyes. In one direction, a clump of children stared unabashed at them from the middle of the hall. In the other, a man and woman had stopped at the bottom on the stairs. They pretended not to notice the Morg and noble, but the constant darting of their eyes and forced conversation gave them away. “I know the news of the invasion has greatly unsettled you,” he continued, voice rumbling even as he tried to keep it low and formal. His words were forced as if read from a script for the first time. “I thought some exercise might help improve your mood and clear your head.”

  Teth felt her heart leap at the offer. “I . . . I would . . . .” She took a deep breath to calm herself and remembered her character. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt. What did you have in mind?”

  “The inn has a large courtyard. Master Tappers has said that we can use
it.”

  “Alright,” Teth forced herself to sound half-hearted as she fought her desire to embrace the Morg. “I’ll do anything to keep from having to sit in that room. Where is it?”

  “This way, my lord.” Garth gestured toward the hall to their left. Teth tried to keep herself from running down it. If she had her way, their exercise would last until after Dasen was asleep and begin again before he was awake. She would lose herself in it, and eventually, she would be in shape to fight, only this time when the fight found her, she would surrender. She would work against her nature, and she would die.

  Chapter 40

  The 37th Day of Summer

  “I hate horses,” Ipid groaned under his breath as he fought to keep himself from the even gray stones beneath him. To his sides, the city common lands were a green blur, marked by herds of the sheep and cattle that had been delivered to the invaders.

  As he watched, a rider appeared in the field, charging across the plains toward a clump of cattle. The animals panicked, creating a stampede. The rider flew past them then circled around. He darted back, forth, around, horse a part of him even more than the legs that directed it, until the herd had returned to the exact spot it had started. It was a game, Ipid realized as he watched another rider emerge from the tents, but not the only. Beyond the cattle, warriors practiced maneuvering in groups, flowing like starlings across the grass in effortless formations. And on his other side, at least a hundred more were playing a mounted version of the game he had witnessed the afternoon that the Kingdoms surrendered.

  Over the previous two weeks, the people of Wildern had become fascinated by these games. Ipid had seen the crowds watching as he rode from town, had overheard conversations among his servants, had received reports from Captain Tyne. Now that they had stopped marching, it appeared the Darthur did little other than play these games. They were as much a part of their culture as learning a trade was in Ipid’s. A nomadic people without cities or establishment, they cared for their herds, traveled their plains, and made war. They had nothing else. They had almost no ability to build or craft, had to trade for anything that was not made from leather, bone, or grass. They had no technology or art or knowledge of the Order. Yet, barring a miracle, they would soon rule the world.

  Arin had told Ipid little of how they had accomplished that. He knew it started when Arin’s father unified the clans and pushed out from the plains. But, even united, they were not large in numbers, had no ability to make their own weapons, did not have their vassals, or – as Belab had said – the te-am ‘eiruh in those early days. In isolation, Ipid doubted that the Darthur, for all their ability, could conquer any single nation on this side of the mountains. No matter how fierce, the first walled city would have bled them dry, so how had they ever conquered so many so quickly?

  Ipid could only file the question away with thousands of others as his horse, thankfully, slowed to a walk to match those of the warriors that accompanied him. They escorted him through the main camp along the same path he’d ridden nearly two weeks before to accept his people’s surrender. The camp had changed considerably in that time. The vassal nations had spread out, taking up residence in and around the area villages. That left primarily Darthur here with their hide tents arrayed in countless circles. At some of those, warriors sat with plates of food that might have fed a family for a day. Others tended weapons, mended saddles, or gathered to partake in the next round of the games. Universally, they were relaxed.

  And so, Ipid realized, was he. Ironically, the camp of the invaders was the one place where he did not feel that his life was in danger. Only a few minutes before as he rode through the empty streets of Wildern, he had watched every window and alleyway with shoulders raised, very nearly expecting to feel a crossbow bolt slam into his back. Though there had been no real dissent in Wildern or elsewhere in the Kingdoms to this point, Ipid could feel it simmering beneath the surface, growing and spreading, preparing to burst forth. Food was growing tight as people finished the stocks they had built and became more dependent upon the meager rations that Jon and his bookkeepers had set. The work foisted upon the people was arduous, dangerous, and outside the comfort of most of the city’s residents. Harsh curfews and the heavy presence of the watch had kept disorder to a minimum, but it did not stop the grumbling that existed in the ration lines, among the work crews clearing the city center, or on the shop floors where the wagons, weapons, harnesses, and thousand other items required by the army were being built. It was only a matter of time before those grumbles became something more, until they began to consolidate around some catalyst, until something happened to transform words into actions. Ipid could only hope that the catalyst would be the one of his choosing, that Lord Stully would serve as the leader and rallying point that the revolution needed, that he would live up to the bargain they had made.

  “Ipid,” a voice called. They had just entered the village that the tents surrounded, the hide tents and warriors giving way to a bustle of people working frantically to meet those warriors’ needs. A thin youth dashed from a doorway, dodging between Ipid’s guards with practiced precision.

  “Jack,” Ipid stammered as the boy came to his side. He cursed himself for taking so long to identify the boy who had been in charge of the te-adeate boys with this portion of the Darthur. “How are you? I am on my way to meet with Arin but planned to see you and the other boys when I was done. How have you been?” It was a lie, quickly formulated, compelled by his mounting guilt – he had not spared a thought for the boys who had been in his care since he’d ridden into Wildern.

  “You don’t need worry ‘bout us,” Jack assured. He trotted along the side of Ipid’s horse. “Sorry, Lord Chancellor. I suppose I should be treatin’ ya with the proper respects. I just saw yir face an’ firgot myself. I’m sure ya got a lot more ta worry ‘bout than us.” Jack looked behind him for an opening to dart back through the riders.

  “No, Jack! Please, I want to know how you and the boys are doing. I am sorry I have not been to see you sooner, but I’ve barely had a free moment since I became Chancellor.”

  “Forced to,” Jack corrected. “That’s what I tell the others. I tell ‘em the Darthur made ya be Chancellor. They all says ya betrayed the country and such, but I tell ‘em they don’t know the Maelstrom from their hole. I tell ‘em they didn’t see what ya went through before we got here. Me and the others we tell ‘em, sir, but . . . .”

  “But what?” Ipid asked as the boy lost his exuberance.

  “Well, there’s a lot of ‘em now. Not just boys either. Grown men. An’ they’re takin’ over a lot o’ the jobs. An’ none of ‘em want ta listen ta us anymore. They don’ even believe us about how things were ‘fore Thoren, says we’s makin’ it up ta cover fir helpin’ the Darthur.”

  “I noticed a lot of new faces, Jack. Where did they all come from?”

  “All over, sir. Lot of ‘em from the farms an’ villages ‘round. They says there’s no food any more, that it’s all comin’ ‘ere, that workin’ fir the invaders is the only way ta get a meal. Sounds like we may be the lucky ones now. We’s got full bellies every night. Not scraps neither. The Darthur, sir, they’s told us ta make ‘nough ta feed ourselves as well as them, an’ there’s always plenty o’ food comin’ in ta make sure it happens.”

  “I see.” Ipid rubbed his chin and looked back out over the town with fresh eyes. They were almost to the estate that Arin had claimed as his headquarters, but he could see now the level of bustle about him. There were hundreds of the people here, doing every imaginable task, occupying every shop, darting back and forth across the street, cooking and cleaning and carrying.

  He was just turning his attention back to Jack when he caught a shimmer of something that stopped him. It was a dress, a glimpse of bright color so desperately out-of-place among the sea of grey and brown. Locking onto that color, his eyes found a woman then another and another. They were surrounding a large building that had probably been a boarding house a few weeks b
efore. Visible only for a second, a sliver between the surrounding structures, the women and their purpose were, nonetheless, unmistakable.

  “What is happening over there?” Ipid asked, pointing.

  “That?” Jack followed Ipid’s finger then found the ground with his eyes. “That’s jist started, sir, an’ all us te-adeate boys stay away, but the Darthur don’ stop it now that we’s k’amach-tur. They’s won’ go in, but some o’ the new men go an’ the soldiers from the other armies, the ones that came ‘long with the Darthur, ya know.”

  Ipid knew exactly what the boy was skirting around. He watched the building slide by, a roving sliver visible through the buildings. He counted a dozen women standing outside in bright dresses that advertised their services. “Are there others like that?”

  Jack looked like he wanted to escape. “I haven’t looked fir ‘em, sir, but I’s heard there’s one in each o’ the villages the invaders is occupying. Also, there’s a big camp ta the south an’ west. Mostly that’s jist people tryin’ ta sell stuff, but they say there’s women there too.”

  “So many?” Ipid mused. As Jack had said, one of the effects of being elevated to k’amach-tur was that their women were no longer unworthy of being whores.

  “People’s hungry,” Jack said plainly. “They says all the food in the Kingdoms is comin’ here. People follow and do what they’s gotta do ta keep their families fed.”

  Ipid supposed that was true. He didn’t like it but didn’t know what he could possibly do. “Go back to your work,” he told Jack as they arrived at the rot iron gates to the estate. “Thank you for finding me. I’ll do what I can to help you and the people who serve the invaders.” Though he had no idea what that would be, he felt that he should say it.