The False Martyr

by H. Nathan Wilcox

  Teth’s eyes narrowed at the implication, but she tried not to let it show, tried not to drive the knife into the man’s neck for just mentioning the Order-cursed Order.

  “Who is this . . . Kian?” Dasen was saying, trying still to cover their identities. “And what exactly is it that you seem to know, Your Excellence?”

  “I know that you are Dasen Ronigan,” the valati said. “I know what you did outside Thoren. I know that you can use the powers of Lawbreakers, that your own father has put an astounding ransom on your return. I know that this is your wife, that the ransom on her is less only by difference in your weights. Is that enough, or shall I continue?”

  “That’s enough,” Teth sighed. “What do you want from us?”

  Dasen gasped at her tone, surely appalled that she would speak so to a member of his blessed Church, but failed to find words of his own.

  “Simply to introduce myself,” the valati stepped forward and took Dasen’s limp hand. “I knew that you would be coming, and now that you have arrived, I see the Order’s plan laid out as never before. But enough of that, there will be much time for strategizing in the coming days. For now, I simply wanted to meet you and wish you peace in the Order.” He bowed slightly and showed himself to the door. “Have a good night’s sleep,” he said as he left. Dasen responded in kind but was too stunned to say anything further.

  Teth felt her blood run cold. Saw the Order in it, was right. He was another of the Weaver’s tools. Whether he knew it or not, he was carrying out the commands of a dead old man. Yet even in death, that old man would not let her have peace. He would haunt her for the rest of her miserable life. She just hoped her misery – and life – was almost done.

  “I’m going to clean off,” she said and followed the valati out of the room. Dasen stammered behind her, but she paid him no mind. The Order could go fuck itself. She was going to die. Not right now, but soon enough, and then even the Order would have to let her go.

  Chapter 42

  The 37th Day of Summer

  “What was I possibly supposed to learn from that?” Cary asked, slightly exasperated. He had just spent hours crammed into a hidden cabinet in the room where the Thull was taking place. It was the fifth day he’d watched the proceedings, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever stand up straight again. “I can’t understand a word they’re saying, and they’re so polite that I can’t even tell what side anyone’s on. Why would you ever pick a spy that can’t understand what he’s overhearing?” He rubbed his back as he spoke, trying to work out a cramp in the muscles along his spine.

  “You are correct,” Juhn conceded. He circled away from Cary in the small room. Cary had been here a few times and knew it was the order master’s private quarters, though it was a small, windowless, and entirely utilitarian room that could only be reached via the order passages – not at all suited for the Order’s highest representative in the Fells. Cary wondered again if Juhn had more extravagant quarters in Eselhelt where the order keepers maintained their hierarchy or if being the Order’s representative was simply not as lofty a position here.

  “I mean, you’re in all those meetings, why do you need me there? It’s not like I’m learning anything that you don’t already know. The ambassador is going to flay me when I tell him again that I don’t know anything. I mean, given the risk, it’s absurd.”

  Cary was so deep into the rant that had been building for three days that he did not notice the order master nodding along with each accusation, did not even think where it might lead. Though he was upset about the way he was being used, his frustration was partially fueled by his inability to make good on the promise he’d made four days ago. Though he saw Noé every day, he was not able to do anything about it. He saw her in the Thull meetings, sitting directly across from his hiding place, always in his vision, absorbing his thoughts so that they could not possibly stay on the incomprehensible discussion. She almost never spoke in the meetings, jumped if addressed, and kept her hand almost continuously before the gap in her lip, but her eyes were watchful, attention constant, sparse words precise.

  Cary wished he could say the same for himself. He had paid scant attention to the meetings. Part of it was that he could not understood what was being said, but words were a small part of communication. Even without knowing the words, he probably could have gotten something out of the proceedings if he could concentrate. Instead, he spent most of the time considering Noé, oscillating between his plans to seduce her, his fantasies of what would happen when he did, and the images of a big hand pressing her face into the bed, of the look on her face when Zhurn threatened her child, of his sister in a similar position, of the tear-streaked faces and the promises he had made in response to each. All those emotions, thoughts, conflicts were only exacerbated by the fact that he could not act on them. Every time he tried to visit Noé, she had visitors – sisters, other Mothers, servants (in as much as the Morgs had servants) – who never seemed to leave. The sole bright spot was that the visitor was never her husband.

  “I agree with you completely,” Juhn said when Cary’s rant petered. “I never should have suggested this. The Thull has proven that Nyel was right. You are not needed. You will return to your people and not enter the order passages again. You are no longer needed.”

  “What?” Cary could not believe what he was hearing. “Wait. What do you mean? I thought you had seen it in the Order or some such.”

  “I was wrong.” Juhn shrugged as if saying he’d forgotten to oil a saddle. I am the youngest order master that anyone can remember and have held the post only since the tragedy in Eselhelt took my master, less than a year ago. In many ways, I am still learning my position, and in this, I was wrong.” Juhn walked to the other side of the desk that dominated the room’s corner but did not sit.

  “What . . . what about the Thull?” Cary could not believe he was actually getting what he’d asked for. Certainly, he was tired to sitting in that cupboard, but he never expected to be dismissed. Now, he was fighting panic as he realized the full implications of what the order master was saying. “I . . . I can help you determine what the Mothers are thinking. I just need more time watching them outside that meeting. I can’t do much in there where they won’t shows their hands, but after, I can find out what they are really thinking . . . who their meeting with . . . what their moods are like.” He realized he sounded desperate. “That was all I meant, that the Thull is not a good use of my skills, I can still do a lot outside of that.”

  “I’m sure that is true,” Juhn said, condescending as if to a child, “but it is unnecessary. There is nothing to discover.” He sighed and looked at the desk before him. “The truth is that I underestimated Nyel. I had only met her once before. I thought this would be close. The three eastern lodges only need to delay things, and to do that, they need only two other lodges. I thought the Callik would dismiss your offer immediately, the relevant lodges would accept the Empire, and the Mothers would delay long enough for the Thull to no longer matter. Today, Nyel eliminated those concerns. She all but ensured that she would get unanimous support whenever she calls for it. Clearly, I should have listened to her from the beginning and saved you all this.”

  “But I just . . . .” Cary struggled to say anything that might save his position. “This is too important to take any chances. Surely, there are Mothers that can change things. How can you know that they will side with Nyel. I mean, the . . . the very fate of my country . . . of both our countries lie in the balance. We cannot leave it to chance. There must be some way . . . .”

  “It is just as you said, this is too important to take any chances. Using you as a spy was always a great risk. The only risk now is in allowing it to continue.”

  “How . . . how could everything have changed so fast?” Cary could not believe what he was hearing. His panic was growing with each word, mind spinning. Did this mean he would never see Noé again? “Are you sure?”

  Juhn sighed long and deep, seeming to accept that this would
not be as easy as he had hoped. “Nyel did something today that no one expected, even me.” He sighed again, placing his hands on the desk before him. “I’m surprised that you did not notice. The entire room fell silent as if the very air had been sucked from it.” Another pause and Cary did remember. The moment had come toward the end, and though he remembered a change in the room, he would have said it was more like a lingering fart than collective affixation. “That reaction came from the mere hint that Torswauk could change the thuluk raln shatar depending on how the invaders are handled.” Juhn stopped and stared at Cary as if that should have eliminated any further questions.

  It had not. “What is the thuck rain shitter?” Cary asked, shock not enough for him to pass on a chance to mangle the foreign words. “Why is changing it so important, and why wouldn’t she have just done that from the beginning?”

  “The thuluck raln shatar is the very center of Morg culture. It is the basis on which our lodges are built. Though everyone knew how serious she was about the Lost Sons, no one thought she would go so far as to threaten such a tradition. Her willingness to do so means that she is confident in her support from Mehret, and together, they could destroy the smaller lodges by changing the thuluck raln shatar. None of those can now be the first to oppose her, and without a first, there can be no second, third, fourth, or fifth. The Mothers will continue their discussions for several days, but the main topic is already decided.”

  Cary felt his heart sinking. “Can you explain?” he asked then quickly added, “So I can tell Ambassador Chulters what is happening. He is certain to ask, and I want to make sure he understands.”

  Juhn stared for a long time, and Cary soon wondered if he should simply leave. “This is not something for outsiders to know,” he said finally, “but I see the wisdom in your request. Liandria is still needed, and we cannot let a misunderstanding ruin what has been built.”

  He took a long breath and spent a moment ordering his thoughts. “First, you must understand that only women are born to a lodge. Men must prove themselves worthy to join a lodge outside the one that has raised them. As such, every autumn the men from each lodge travel to other lodges to complete the caratht, a series of competitions designed to show that they are worthy to join the lodge. The order that they visit the lodges changes every year. This rotation is the thuluck raln shatar. It was set centuries ago to ensure that every lodge has the opportunity to add men from every other lodge. To threaten it is like your king threatening to change the right to hereditary nobility. It would bring your nobles immediately into line, but he could only do it if he was absolutely certain that he has the strength to carry out the threat. The same thing applies here. Nyel can only threaten the thaluck raln shatar if she can follow through on it. If not, Torswauk’s very place as the preeminent lodge would be lost, and she would be almost certainly be replaced as Mother.” Juhn paused to let that sink in. Cary didn’t understand the tradition, but he understood the analogy. The nobility would rise up at the thought of losing their titles. So much so that, if the king could not back the threat, he would be the one overthrown.

  But this isn’t the same. “Why does it matter? Won’t the lodges just make a new thuluck . . . whatever?”

  Juhn shook his head. “You are not understanding. You see there is always a shortage of men in the Fells. Completing the caratht is no small thing. Some men, knowing their deficiencies,” Juhn motioned to himself, “choose the Order rather than certain humiliation, dismemberment, or death. Still others, will never complete the contest no matter how many lodges they visit. These are known as völk. Without a lodge, they leave the Fells to sell their services in the South. Still more will not survive the caratht or will be severely injured. Add to this the simple dangers of a man’s life – hunting, trapping, mining, forging, and fighting – and you see there are never enough men. A woman without a husband is yuté. They are a step below in our hierarchy. They are servants and hand maiden. They can take any man to their beds, but they have no power over these men and those available are usually ones whose wives will not have them. You can imagine what that means. It is a life that all women fear.”

  Images of what Zhurn would do to such desperate women came to Cary’s mind, but that did not change the basic equation. “That doesn’t answer the question. Why couldn’t the other lodges just band together and share men among themselves?” The whole thing seemed ridiculous, men parading about and showing off so that women could select them like horses at an auction.

  Juhn stared as if trying to comprehend what Cary had suggested, as if Cary had just asked why the trees didn’t just get up and walk away when there wasn’t enough water. “The thuluck raln shatar is designed to benefit the smaller lodges, to help them grow,” he finally answered with a tone of overstretched patience. “Consider the importance to a small lodge like Pada Por to be the first to host Torswauk. Not only do they get first choice of the Fells best men, there will be enough of them that they can find husbands for almost every eligible woman in the lodge. Only Torswauk and Mehret are big enough to fill that need. To lose the right to host them would leave a whole generation of sisters without husbands. In normal times, that would be difficult, but not catastrophic. But if those small lodges fight for the Empire, they will certainly lose many men and will be even more dependent upon the other lodges to replace them. If those other lodges withhold their men, the shortage may destroy them. At the end of the day, women like the wealth that their men bring by hiring themselves out as mercenaries, but they like having men to warm their beds in the winter and give them daughters in the autumn even more. If the Mother of a lodge cost her sisters the ability to find husbands, she would most certainly not be Mother for long.

  “By threatening the thuluck raln shatar, Nyel had indicated an ability and willingness to destroy any lodge that opposes her. It is her ultimate weapon, but one I did not think her ruthless enough to deploy. The fact that she has shows that she will broke no dissent. Not only has she won, the victory is decisive.”

  Cary could think of nothing else to say. He could not say that he truly understood any of it, but it certainly sounded final. “I see,” he said. In truth, he did not. It all seemed too easy given what he’d been told. “So that’s it?”

  “That is it. You are no longer needed. We have all but won. Just tell your ambassador to keep the Callik talking for a few more days. Even cowed, it takes time for the Mothers to agree, and it will be much easier if the men do not make other plans. And we still need your prince to arrive. Though this is no longer about the gold, it does make the decision easier for the Mothers and their men to accept.” Juhn smiled. Cary tried to return it but felt like someone was ripping at his guts. All that for nothing. They were always going to win, and now he would never see Noé again.

  #

  “You’re sure of this?” Ambassador Chulters spun, stopped dead in his tracks, and hit Cary with a piercing stare. Cary had caught him in the halls on the way back from the day’s meeting of the Callik and told him what Juhn had said.

  “It is what Juhn told me. I see no reason for him to lie, and it fits with what I saw.”

  Scanning the empty hall, the ambassador pulled Cary into a storeroom to the side, closed the door, and placed the oil lamp he was carrying on a barrel – though it was certainly still light outside, it was always night in the near windowless lodge. After a needless search among the sacks and casks, Ambassador Chulters leaned against a barrel and considered. “But you can’t confirm any of it?”

  “No, sir, it was all in the Morg language.”

  “And you still can’t understand any of it?”

  “No, sir.” I haven’t learned a new language in a week, he wanted to add. At the same time, if Ambassador Chulters didn’t believe Juhn there might be a glimmer of hope for his continued skulking. “But if you suspect something is amiss, I can continue to keep an eye on things. I can still use . . . .”

  “No.” Ambassador Chulters crushed Cary’s hope even as it formed. �
��That was idiocy from the start. We had no choice but to agree, but I am glad that Juhn has finally come to his senses. And we have no reason to believe he is lying, so we must accept it as true.” He stood from the barrel and paced the short hall between foodstuffs. “I suppose I should be pleased. We’ve finally gotten some good news and just in time.”

  “Is the Callik not going well?” Cary asked cautiously.

  The ambassador chuckled, good news finally seeming to penetrate his dour mood. “That is an understatement. It’s just as Juhn said, we don’t have the votes, and we’re not going to get them. I’m not even sure I can do my part of keep it going.” He considered. “These are not patient men. They nearly managed to reject us within the first hour of our proposal. I am keeping our offer vague and begging time for the prince to arrive, but we are barely keeping them going.”

  “We, sir?” Cary asked. Something that Juhn had said rang in Cary’s mind. He’d expected the Callik to reject Liandria’s proposal immediately. The fact that they hadn’t must have weighed in what was happening in the Thull.

  “The western lodges are clearly our staunchest allies, but there are only two of them. Mehret is with us – I think because it would be too expensive for the Empire to hire them.” The ambassador paced as he spoke, seemingly happy with the chance to share his burdens. “Hvartin and Ostoff switch positions every day depending on which spoke to the Imperial ambassador most recently, but one of them always votes to keep the negotiations open. On the other side, Ithar seems like he’d join the Empire even if they didn’t pay him.”