“In the courtyard, ma’am,” the boy supplied. “I’m sorry, but I know who he is. He’s been in the courtyard all day with the . . .” he seemed to think better of his words, “. . . with your man. Would you like me to show you?”
Dasen shook his head. “That won’t be necessary. If you could just point me in the right direction.”
“Certainly, my lady.” The boy gestured down the hall. “Take the first right turn down this hall. The door will be immediately on your left.”
Dasen looked down the hall, saw a boy and girl run from the common room and pull to a stop when they saw him. He could hear the rumble of the crowd from that room. As the children had shown, he would have to walk past it to reach Teth. He breathed deeply as the children turned and ran back. The sound of their calls was lost in the cacophony, but Dasen could imagine them spreading their news like a dripping nose. For a second, he thought about turning back then, with another breath, nodded to the servant, raised his fan, and walked down the hall.
He managed only a glance as he passed the big open space that led to the inn’s common room. It was packed nearly to bursting as half the city seemed to be seeking their meal. And that bustle seemed to act as the perfect distraction. The people inside were so concerned with their meals, with their attempts to speak and hear over the roar, that not an eye rose to watch him glide past and disappear around a corner.
The courtyard was there on his left just as promised. With a breath, he turned the knob and pushed the nearest of the twin doors open. All told, the courtyard was maybe fifteen paces across and twenty long. It seemed small, but given that it was crammed into the center of an inn, it was extraordinary. A footpath of smooth stones ran along the edge with rows of flowers separating it from the ivy-covered walls that surrounded it. Benches were arranged around the grass in the center with trellises of vines and flowers rising over them. The day had not been hot, and it was even cooler in the shade lavished courtyard. The air was still and smelled slightly of wood smoke and, to Dasen’s surprise, sweat – Teth’s metallic tang. His eyes found her just after his nose. She was standing on a patch of manicured grass in the center of the courtyard a few paces from the trunk of a sprawling apple tree that served as the courtyard’s centerpiece.
Dasen took it all in then turned back to Teth. She was moving, performing a series of exercises, switching from slow to fast to still, while Garth studied her. His heart skipped at seeing her then hurt in his chest. She was soaked with sweat, white shirt grey, pants marked with lines of salt. Her hair, little more now than a severe bowl, was plastered to her head. Water ran down her sunken cheeks and dripped from her sharp nose and chin. And Dasen was instantly transported to the field outside Thoren, to seeing her drenched with rain, exhausted to the point of collapse, and knowing that he was tied to her, that they were meant to be together, that no force under the Order could pull them apart. Even this, he told himself with a deep breath that only partially dismissed the ache in his chest.
“Stop!” Garth bellowed. “There is no point in this. A lodge is not built in a day, and neither shall you be.” Teth stopped. Her hands went to her knees. She gasped for air then fell to sitting, head between her knees, entire body crumpled like a rag doll. Only then did Dasen realize how weak she had been, how her arms had trembled, how she had cheated the movements, how she had panted for air and clenched her teeth to complete exercises that a few weeks before would have been folly.
“You have an admirer,” Garth rumbled as he picked up one of the plates that sat on the bench nearest the tree.
Teth brought her head up through great effort. Her face fell just as Dasen’s heart rose. He so longed to see her that he barely noticed. “I . . . I was just wondering where you were.” He walked around the path toward her. “You’ve been gone all day, and I was starting to worry.” Teth did not respond. She dropped her head back between her knees. “I’m . . . I’m sorry to disturb you.”
“You disturb nothing,” Garth growled. “This is an insult to the turth-koate. It needed to end before the Order saw it and punished us all.” He returned to the plate of food, tearing apart the beef ribs with his fingers. He mumbled what had to be curses in his native language beneath his breath.
Dasen was frozen. Teth had said that she needed space, but he had not thought that meant treating each other as strangers. He took a tentative step toward her, trying to think of something to say.
The door flew open behind him. He spun expecting to see a crowd of gapers led by one of the children he had seen in the halls. He fully expected that they were, at this moment, telling the entire population of Gorin about the emergence of the ugly half-Morg lady from the north. He nearly tripped over the dress in his effort to turn and back away simultaneously. A strong hand caught his elbow and steadied him.
“And who might this lovely creature be?” Kian asked as he clasped Dasen’s elbow. He pulled himself in uncomfortably close, running his eyes to Dasen’s bodice then back up to his face and hair. If Dasen had truly been a woman of noble birth, the proximity and perusal would have required a sharp and painful reprisal from her bodyguard. As it was, Garth just grunted and worked at his ribs. Finally, Kian released Dasen’s elbow and stepped back. “Garth, by the Order! You’re supposed to be this lady’s bodyguard. As far as their type is concerned, I very nearly raped her, and you barely moved a muscle. Morg or no, you wouldn’t keep your job a day.”
“Humph,” the Morg snorted and took a bite of meat.
Kian abandoned Dasen to close on the Morg, giving Dasen the space to recover his senses. He could smell Kian now, rank and sour. His shirt was nearly as damp as Teth’s. His hair no longer dripped, but it was plastered to his head. His pants were marked with mud, boots covered in the sticky brown stuff. And he walked with a noticeable limp. Dasen was amazed that Mark had ever allowed him in and that he had made it through all the gentlemen in the main room looking like a soldier just returned from battle.
“Do you have a problem, Garth?” Kian asked the Morg, who barely seemed to acknowledge him. He was a big man, but he looked like a child next to Garth, was barely taller than the Morg even as he sat on the bench. “We all have parts to play here. The valati pulled us from the river for a reason. Now, play your part or get out.”
“Humph,” the Morg answered, but he turned his face toward Kian as he said it. The soldier somehow stared the Morg down. Finally, Garth nodded, set his plate down, and walked to Dasen. “My lady, would you like me to deal with this man?”
Dasen was not sure what to say. Kian saved him the effort. “Much better,” he chuckled. “Next time, don’t wait so long, and don’t be so gentle. You don’t ask, you handle it. Otherwise, I’m pleased to see you working with young Master Esther. In these troubled times, every young man should have some martial training. In this case, it fits the story and will keep you both out of trouble. We also need to return our goddess of war to a semblance of the creature who earned the title.”
Kian sat down and began picking at the plate of food that had been left for Teth. It contained far more refined fare – the hind portion of a duck roasted in a dark sauce, carrots dripping butter, and rice with nuts and raisins. He tore off a bite of the duck without any regard for whose meal he was stealing.
Dasen eyed Teth. She had been watching them from her place on the ground. Her eyes narrowed, jaw locked, but the anger was gone just as fast. She looked away, her head returning to the space between her knees.
“. . . had an adventure today,” Kian was saying. He seemed to not care if anyone was listening. “Seems they finally decided to guard the wagons coming into the city. I guess it was just a matter of time. Good thing none of the guards had ever used a weapon with any intent of actually hurting someone.”
“Anyone hurt?” the Morg asked, concern entering his voice.
“No one other than the guard I shot. Once the others knew we were shooting to kill and they weren’t, they dropped. Just a bunch a scared kids really. We let them go, but I th
ink that’ll be the last caravan we take. Can’t risk anyone actually getting hurt at this point, and we’ve already got plenty of food. Even the valati said it’s time to move on. Sounds like he’s got something else planned. I wonder how long he’ll make us wait before we know what it is.”
“Humph,” Garth grunted between bites, showing the taciturn indifference that was expected of Morgs.
“I’d guess that it has something to do with this beauty.” Kian smiled and turned back to Dasen. “The valati was very interested to hear about you. I could almost see the wheels turning behind his scheming eyes. And I can see why. Who’d have guessed that my cousin’s Order-damned wife would do us any good, but there it is. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he really was a woman. Tallest one I’ve ever seen, but the rest is perfect.”
“You, on the other hand, my dear,” he turned to Teth, “look like you’ve been through the Maelstrom. And since your husband looks fine, I’m guessing it’s been self-imposed.”
When Teth refused to respond to the prompts, Kian turned to Dasen. “I know what this is, you know. We haven’t had anything like it around here in a long time, but my grandpa served in the wars. He was a good man, but sometimes, he would just go away somewhere. He wouldn’t eat or sometimes even get out of bed for days. And if you yelled or made the door crash he’d jump a mile in the air and come down crying.” He turned back to Teth. “My grandma said the war was still goin’ on in his head, that he’d never left the field outside Dorington. Is that where you are? Are you still on a field outside Thoren? You still fighting?”
Teth looked at him stunned. Her eyes darted from him to Dasen and back again. She seemed not to breathe. Kian had hit it. Dasen had thought the battle was part of Teth’s troubles but had never considered that it could weigh on her like that, that she would still be carrying it around with her. Dasen remembered the battle, dreamed of it, felt it, but he knew it wasn’t real, knew it was in the past, and that there was nothing he could do about it but let it go. But if Teth couldn’t do that, if she was still living that terrible day. . . .
“I see it sometimes too,” Kian continued, voice distant. “I dream about it. I mean,” he paused and wiped his face, “something like that you don’t forget. It haunts you, but my da always said, ‘ghosts can either haunt us or help us, and you get to pick which it is.’ He also used to say that, ‘The Order can only shape what it has. It can make a sword sharp or dull, but it’s still a sword, not a plow.”
Teth retracted to the first axiom as if slapped, the second as if punched in the stomach. She looked at Kian with a mix of shock, anguish, and disbelief then leapt to her feet and ran for the door.
“Shit,” Dasen grumbled as he fought his dress to intercept her. She brushed past him and was out the door before he could get the hoops in his skirt pointed the right direction.
“What’d I say?” Kian asked. He looked honestly confused, but Dasen thought he saw an air of mischief in his eye.
“Her aunt used to say that,” Dasen grumbled as he turned to chase Teth. “She raised Teth and probably died in Randor’s Pass. And, trust me, Teth has enough ghosts to populate the whole of the afterlife. I better see if she’s alright. Since you’re eating her dinner, can you ask Mr. Tappers to bring another plate to our room?”
Kian nodded and rubbed his chin. “Watch her,” he called to Dasen’s back. “I never knew my granddad. He threw himself in the river when my da was a boy.” Dasen turned and looked back, questioning. “My grandma told me about him. She said it was the war that killed him, that he thought he should have died on that field and eventually saw to it himself.”
Dasen did not know what to say. He thought about Teth over the past few weeks. Everything that Kian had said fit, but he could not imagine Teth hurting herself. She had already been through so much, had fought for so long. How could this be what defeated her? And hadn’t she said that it was something she learned at the Weavers’ compound that had upset her? Still, certain phrases came back to him, certain actions, and he found his pace increasing as he passed through the door into the hall.
Luckily, he realized what he was doing before he reached the common room. He forced himself to lower the dress and to shorten his stride. He composed himself, folded his hands before him, and made his face demure. He walked by the room slowly and tried not to catch the eye of the crowd. He was very nearly successful.
His gaze rose on its own to the bar. A short man in a brown robe with the shining silver pendant of a valati caught his eyes and held them. He was speaking with Mr. Tappers, but his focus was on Dasen as if he had expected to see him appear. Dasen studied his buck teeth, balding head, pockmarked face and tried to place him in the lexicon of faces from his life so long ago. He could not, so he forced his eyes away and hurried after his wife.
#
Teth held the knife’s edge above her wrist, watched it glisten in the fading light that shown through the lone window. It was sharp, already marked with blood where she had tested it on her thumb. A couple of quick slashes and it would be done. They’d never stop the bleeding in time. Her life would pump from her veins, and she would fade into the nothing that certainly waited. She took a deep breath, watched the orange glow of the setting sun in the window and brought the knife slowly down.
“Teth, let me in!” Dasen yelled from outside. The stupid boy had used her real name, had not even tried to disguise his voice. He pounded on the door like he might knock it in.
And when he did knock the door down? When the people in the inn learned what had happened? He’d be devastated and discovered. Everything would be ruined. She’d have kill him, not only broken his heart, but given him to the invaders. She took a long shaking breath.
Dasen pounded again with even greater urgency. “Teth, are you alright? Please let me in. I’ll get . . . .”
Teth unlatched the door. She put the knife on the desk and wiped her dripping eyes.
Dasen exploded into the room in a flurry of silk, lace, and perfume. “By the Order, Teth,” he gasped. “Why did you lock the door?” He looked at her then at the table, eyes locking on the knife then growing wide. “You . . . I mean . . . you weren’t thinking of . . .”
Teth managed to laugh. “What?” She snuffled and wiped her eyes again. “Have you ever known me to be without a knife? I stole it from the kitchen then cut myself getting it out of my pocket.” She held up her bloody thumb and tried to laugh. It ended in a sob.
Dasen came to her, closing the door behind him. He wrapped his arms around her, but the dress was so ridiculous that Teth could only chuckle. “By the Order, look at us,” she said.
“Are you alright, Teth?” he asked, ignoring her diversion. “I’m worried about you. I love you. We are joined. I know you don’t believe all that stuff, but it is my duty to protect you. I promised that I would, just like you protected me in the forest. It’s my turn now, so let me help.” He looked at her, nearly begging.
“I’m fine,” she forced a laugh. “It was just . . . that was what my aunt used to tell me all the time.” She snuffled then accepted the lace handkerchief that Dasen offered. “When Kian said it, it made me think of her, and how she’s probably dead, and I’ll never see her again.” Teth broke down at that. She held the handkerchief to her face and fell onto Dasen’s silk clad shoulder. She didn’t mention that it was Kian’s second adage that had nearly made her end it all – always a sword, never a plow.
Dasen put his arm cautiously around her. She let him but felt his hesitation – from my sweat or my words, she wondered. “Teth, I’m . . . are you . . . what Kian said is it . . . .”
A sharp knock cut Dasen off before he could find the words. Teth shot from his shoulder and began dabbing at her eyes. She took a deep breath just as the door came open.
“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” a raspy voice said. There were a handful of faces that Teth expected to appear through the door. A short, ugly valati was not one of them. He carried a tray before him, but the brown robe a
nd intricately crafted pendant were clear. Just when her life could not get any stranger, a full valati brought her dinner. “I wanted to meet you,” he explained, “so Mr. Tappers allowed me to bring up your tray.”
Teth wanted to laugh. One more inspection confirmed what she already knew. He was of a rank to guide a large city in its adherence to the Order. He would most certainly outrank Dasen and Teth’s assumed identities, yet he was carrying a tray of food like a serving boy.
“Please, Your Excellence,” Dasen stammered from a few feet away. He was blushing and flustered, was about to lose all sense of his new identity. “Certainly, you . . . I mean . . . Your Excellence, you . . . you did not need to carry a tray. We would have been happy to meet you at your convenience.” He looked down at Teth through his stammering. The valati just watched her with his dull, brown eyes, studied her, seemed not even to hear Dasen’s distress. “I . . . I am sorry for my brother. He has . . . it has been a hard few days. We just returned from a pilgrimage and learned about the invasion. We have no idea if our home and family are safe in the Stormwoods, and he is . . . .”
“I know exactly what he is.” The valati stepped into the room, set the tray on the table, and shut the door behind him. His eyes turned to Dasen. “I know what you are as well. You, however, are disadvantaged. Please allow me to introduce myself so that the balance can be restored. My name is Valati Gian Lareno, formerly of Thoren.”
Teth blinked. Even she had heard of Valati Lareno. It had been enough of a scandal when he was appointed – a monk from the Hall of Understanding elevated to valati of a significant city in the Kingdoms – that it had reached all the way to Randor’s Pass. She looked at Dasen. He was dumbstruck, eyes wide, body stiff, jaw moving without forming words. “Are you the valati that Kian has mentioned?” Teth asked to spare her husband.
“I am. I hope he was not too unkind. I am the one who brought him and his fellows here, and I’m not sure if they thank or curse me for the favor.” He tried to laugh, but it died when it failed to find followers. “I pulled them from the river, and we followed it here. Now, we work together to see that the Order’s will is done. We have been looking for you two for a while. I wish I could have come to see you sooner, but I was . . . detained. When Mr. Tappers told me what he’d done with you,” he paused to look at the two of them again, “I thought he’d gone mad, but now I see the Order in it.”
The False Martyr Page 51