The False Martyr

by H. Nathan Wilcox

  “I see.” Dasen calmed his thundering heart, took a deep breath, and moved on shaking legs to take the last seat at the table, directly across from Kian. “You gave me a fright. I thought maybe you’d sold us out to the governor.”

  “Nonsense! Give you up to that son of an Exile whore? We need you to help us liberate and hold the city. We’re patriots, not traitors like your weasel of a dad.” He spit on the floor at the mention of the Traitor, as Ipid was commonly known. Dasen still couldn’t accept that he and his father were the same man. “Giving you up now would be like surrendering before the battle’s even started, and I don’t even surrender when the battle’s lost.”

  Behind him, Teth rustled. Dasen looked toward her, but she just shifted on the flour sacks, posture loose, eyes closed, arms crossed over her chest. Returning his attention to the table, he was greeted by the valati’s hungry stare. He nodded in a hope that it would persuade the man to move on, but his eyes just continued roving him, weighing, measuring. For a person who was worth his weight in silver, it was a terrible feeling.

  “That said,” Kian continued, saving Dasen from the valati’s stare, “every leader knows when it’s time to change tactics, and I think that time is now.” He took a deep breath and leaned forward. “I have it on good information that the governor has started to grow suspicious of a certain noblewoman from the far north.” Dasen felt his blood run cold. How could the governor be suspicious of him, he’d barely left his room? “I can’t blame him really. No one sits in a tiny room for a week unless they’re afraid to leave it. From what my sources say, the governor agrees. And if it goes on much longer, he may well do something about it.”

  Kian exchanged glances with the valati. “Now, Dasen, we all agree that you need to get out of the inn. It is not natural for a young woman to remain cloistered as you have. It is drawing all the wrong kind of attention, staring the wrong kind of rumors as my cousin would say. Now, before you start to panic, Valati Lareno has a plan to get you out of your room and further our cause at the same time. Mark has assured me that you can pass as a woman. And you will be constantly in Lareno’s company. If you do it properly, you’ll be untouchable, you will further our cause, and may even help some people in the process. What do you think?”

  Dasen swallowed hard. His eyes bounced between Kian and the valati. Kian was grim, the valati amused. He didn’t like it. It was true that he had gotten much better at playing his character. He now felt almost naked without the cosmetics and wig and could wear the dresses with a minimum of discomfort. The recent spate of cooler weather had been of great help, but even with a return of true summer today, he had managed. Even with sweat running down his face and soaking through the dress, the cosmetics had held, the wig had not moved, and the dress showed nothing. He was as confident as he could be in the costume he was to wear, but that did not mean he wasn’t concerned about the character he was to play. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Not you,” Valati Lareno answered, “Lady Deena Esther.”

  “What do you want Deena Esther to do?” Dasen looked back at Teth, but she appeared to be asleep – he desperately wished she were not. Garth watched over her like a new father. At least we have that. The two of them had been inseparable for days now, and since Teth had run off yesterday, he seemed to have taken an increased interest in protecting her. He felt a pang of jealousy at that but supposed he should be glad that someone, at least, was watching over her.

  “We need a front,” the valati said. He had a high, weak voice poorly suited for weekly lessons projected to thousands. Beyond that, he was short, ugly, and utterly lacking in charisma or presence. His face and body were round, head nearly bald though he was not old, teeth bucked and yellow, skin blotchy and pocked. Dasen had never seen his like in a valati. “You see, Kian and his men had a great run of raiding the supply caravans until the governor cracked down. Pretty much everything from the southern Kingdoms comes through here, so we were able to build a great store. We have supplies hidden throughout the city, enough to last for weeks. We use some of it to supplement what the governor provides for our nightly soup lines, but if we do anything more we’ll raise suspicion. The whole city is on a strict rationing program, which makes it hard to explain the source of any additional food. As a result, we have mountains of food going to the rats while thousands starve here and at that abomination of a camp outside the city. At least here, we can provide soup and bread once a day. I do not think . . .” the valati stopped as emotion seemed to overcome him, “. . . I do not think they are getting any food at all in the camp. No one is allowed to visit, but I have heard that the Exiles would denounce the inhumanity of it.”

  “Nothing at all,” Dasen said before he could stop himself. “That’s . . . that’s terrible.” His mind immediately went to the family he had met outside the temple, to the man and his grandchildren on the street. He pictured them and thousands of others children, men, and women locked away and left to starve.

  The valati took a deep breath. “Though it probably hurts our cause, we want to do more. But the governor is already suspicious of our soup lines. If we suddenly start making more bread, he will know that we are connected to the robberies. He’ll eventually put it all together, arrest us, and confiscate everything for the invaders. Do you understand?”

  “Much easier to catch a thief spending in the light than sneaking in the night,” Dasen said in way of answer. “So how is it that we eat like kings every night? Shouldn’t the River Maiden have the same problem?”

  The valati nodded. “Mark has several advantages. At my advice, he made a great show of stocking food before the rationing was announced. The Chancellor’s seizures are only of food coming in from the country. He does not want to be seen raiding people’s homes to steal their food, so he takes it before it gets there. Thus, this storeroom is safe. Mark has also made a show of purchasing ration papers with the money of his wealthy residents. In all, he has the resources to create a very effective illusion. The Church, however, has no such resources. We are feeding hundreds every day and if we purchased ration papers, we’d just be feeding those same people with their own rations. Do you see?”

  “Of course, but what can I . . . what can Lady Esther possibly do about that?” Dasen’s commercial mind was already deep into the problem. “I can appear to be financing you, but that doesn’t really solve the problem, because the shortage is the problem. If you buy more food, it will only come out of the bellies you’re trying to fill.”

  “You’ve got it!” Valati Lareno smiled, clearly pleased with the mental sparring. “As it turns out, Lady Esther is the perfect solution. Mark made you rich, so he’d have an excuse for giving you a room when he was turning away so many others. He established your devotion to the Order when he sent you on a pilgrimage. He made you the talk of the city by making you noble and of questionable heritage.” Garth snuffed loudly behind them. “My apologies, Garth,” the valati responded. “Of unusual heritage. I have been seen visiting your room several times over the past week. You are horrified by the state of the city, by the rumors you hear about the camp. You consider it your duty to the Order to do something about it. We have often discussed various options, but today, you decided you had heard enough. For a week you have been praying, but as our savior said, ‘the most powerful prayer is action.’ Seeing that your week of prayer had not worked, you begged me to let you help with the distribution of food.”

  “I’m pretty sure that Valatarian never said that,” Dasen started.

  The valati waved him off. “The point is that you had to do something.”

  “But how can that possibly help? Just because a noblewoman hands out food doesn’t mean there is any additional food to hand out.”

  “Not at first,” the valati countered. “But maybe, just maybe, it will in the future. It is best if you not know all the details. An element of surprise will be necessary for it all to seem real. But know that if we succeed, you will not only feed a starving city, you will be
untouchable, and you will bring an end to this whole terrible system.”

  Dasen looked from Lareno to Kian and back again. He was not sure that he had enough confidence in his new identity to stand in front of a thousand people handing out food. It was one thing to convince a few people while sitting on a bench. It was something altogether different to face thousands while close enough to ladle soup.

  “Trust us,” Lareno continued. “Mr. Tappers assures me that your disguise is good enough. It is only the story that is lacking. This will complete it and end all doubts as to Deena Esther’s real identity.” He paused, then pushed himself forward, diving in for the kill. “I ask, if you were a wanted criminal, would you hand out bread to half the city? Certainly not. You would remain hidden. You would see as few people as possible for fear of being discovered. Sound familiar? That is exactly where we are now, and suspicion is only growing. If it continues, the governor’s spies will start to look into the mysterious young noblewoman that no one has heard of, and that is the one thing Deena Esther won’t survive. If, however, you are out in the open, standing before them, waiting for their inspection, they will not even bother to look.”

  Dasen thought about it for a long moment. “What about Teth? What will she do?”

  “Nothing. She will remain a boy most concerned with himself and becoming a soldier. She will spend her days training with Garth as she does now. He will guard and protect her. I will ensure your safety. No one would doubt a valati in his word to protect the honor of a young noble woman. But just in case, I will be bringing on two new acolytes to assist me.” He gestured toward Torin and Jax. The twins had drifted off, were surprised to be included in the conversation, but eventually smiled, showing identical gaps in their teeth. “They will keep an eye on things and be ready to act if anything goes wrong.”

  Dasen looked at the brothers. They were not as big as Kian but every bit as hard. Their eyes were dull and narrow, faces lax. These were not thinkers. They were men who followed orders, and Dasen guessed the orders would be to keep him in line as much as to keep him safe. “And I will hand out bread and ladle soup?”

  “That is it exactly,” Lareno smiled, yellow buck teeth showing like a beaver. “It is the perfect role for a woman in this time. Caring for the needy, giving out food, healing, and nurturing. It is the stuff of Cornissina.”

  The name of the Xi Valati who was credited with defining the roles of women within the Order sent Dasen’s eyes to Teth. The very mention of that name a few weeks ago might have sent her into a fury – even when asleep – but she did not stir now. “I don’t know,” Dasen said. He was not sure how he would pull off being a woman in front of so many eyes.

  “It is a bigger risk to do nothing,” Valati Lareno said. “Sometimes, we need to give ourselves up to the Order and trust that Its pattern exist for a reason.”

  Dasen nodded. “It will be good to do something worthwhile if nothing else. What do I need to do?”

  “Tomorrow is Teaching Day,” Valati Lareno explained. “You will come to the lessons, and we’ll get you started after that.” He smiled wide. “I can see the Order in this. I think we have aligned ourselves to Its will and will be rewarded.”

  “As long as the reward isn’t my weight in silver,” Dasen mumbled in response.

  Chapter 45

  The 38th Day of Summer

  It was a day of heated interruptions with the first coming before Ipid was even out of his bed, before the sun had touched the horizon, before he was even fully awake.

  “Stop!” Eia whispered harshly, halting their love making almost as soon as it had started. She pushed him off of her and rolled away.

  “Do you want to be on top?” he asked, reaching for her.

  “I want to be done with these pathetic attempts at sex.” She pushed his hand away and pulled the sheet over her. “I am not some girl who has joined you without ever having experienced another man. I am not so naïve as to think this is all there is to it. Top, bottom, top, bottom but always the same: two minutes of grunting and bouncing sloppily about and you’re done. I am bored, and I am through with it.”

  “But . . . but I . . . you are the one that is always . . . . I thought you . . . .” Ipid could not get his head around what was happening. Eia had always been the one pushing for sex. Even this morning, she had roused him with her touch, pulled him on top of her, guided him inside her. He held no illusions that he was a great lover, but it wasn’t like he wasn’t trying to please her.

  “And that is another thing. Do you even want me?” She scowled through a flurry of hair, arm holding the sheet tight over her chest, closing herself off from him completely.

  “Of course I want you. I am sorry if I have been distracted, but there have been . . . .”

  “Forget your distractions. If you want me, then why am I the only one that ever initiates our love making? If I didn’t throw myself at you, we’d have sex as often as your counselors. It’s as if I am the distraction, as if you can barely spare the time for me to pleasure you. And forget about pleasing me. The nation would probably crumble if you took five minutes to slow down and concentrate on me.”

  “I . . . I thought you liked our . . . .”

  “Our sex,” Eia supplied with an edge.

  “Our love making,” Ipid said gently and reached for her.

  “Ha!” Eia slapped his hand away. “Where is the love? Even calling it sex is generous. What you do is little more than fucking. You put about as much thought into it as a dog riding a bitch. The way you treat your women here, they probably expect nothing more. Just like everything else, they hardly matter. It is just another duty they perform for their husbands, but I am not one of your pitiful women. I answer only to myself, and I will not waste my affections on a man who does not desire to please me every bit as much as I desire to please him.”

  Ipid was stunned. “I’m sorry, Eia. You always seemed to be . . . . I mean, you always seemed to want . . . .”

  “I had not had sex since the Darthur,” she snapped, clearly exasperated. “My longing was so great that I nearly climaxed every time you touched me, but it has been weeks now, and I am no longer so desperate as to be satisfied by these . . . amateur attempts.” She stood from the bed and pulled on a white satin robe. “I am going to clean myself. If you need release this morning, your hand will have to suffice.”

  Ipid was left watching her stomp from the room, replaying all their encounters in his mind, thinking of her panting and moaning, feeling her still, and wondering what more he could possibly do.

  #

  The next interruption came as Ipid was eating his breakfast. Eia, seemingly unaffected by their earlier conversation, sat next to him picking at her food. She smiled and flirted, leaving him to wonder if he had dreamt the whole thing. On the other side of the great desk that had become his table of choice, scribes scribbled at their tables, copying edicts or transcribing reports with a constant scratch of pen on paper. They had been here before Ipid emerged from his room, leaving him to wonder if they ever left. Near the door, a half-dozen warriors scraped up eggs with flat bread and chuckled over some surely monstrous story of death and dismemberment. Ipid was catching up on the reports that had come in the night, just starting a dispatch from Gorin West, of all places. It said something about bandits and a noblewoman from the north, but that was as far as he got before the butler announced Jon’s arrival. He looked at the enormous pendulum clock on the far wall. Jon was a full hour early for their daily briefing.

  “What is it, Jon?” Ipid asked, slightly annoyed. He dropped the dispatch absently in his pile of finished papers and forgot all about it.

  “There’s been an accident,” Jon blurted before he was fully into the room. He looked awful. He had lost so much weight that he again resembled his employer. His face seemed to have lost its elasticity along with the weight, skin sagging and pooling around the bones that gave it structure. His eyes were bloodshot so that Ipid could see the red from across the room. His back and sh
oulders slumped. Hands trembled. Head nodded as if might fall asleep as he stood. Still, Ipid could not spare the man any sympathy. The job needed to be done, and there was only Jon to do it.

  Motioning him to the study, Ipid rose from the desk and led the way through the door. For some reason, Eia remained at her place picking at her breakfast. “By the Order, Jon,” Ipid cursed when the door was closed behind them. “In front of that mess out there? What are you thinking?”

  “My apologies, Lord Chancellor,” Jon swallowed. His eyes looked like they were propped open with sticks. “But it is no secret. The whole city knows. These men’s wives would tell them before they were through the door.”

  “How bad was it?” Ipid sighed and rubbed his temples. He was already dealing with the fallout of Arin’s increased demands. He had ordered that every person in the Kingdoms would eat tomorrow, that every temple would provide a free meal after the weekly lessons, but after that, the rations would be tightened further. Work hours would be increased to provide more equipment, to build more boats, to drive more wagons, to bake bread and slaughter animals and clear roads and whore out wives. Ipid’s teeth clenched at the thought. The ends, he told himself. Focus on the ends. The means don’t matter as long as the ends are justified.

  “A dozen men, sir. Clearing the Capital District. Two of them were children.”

  “The Maelstrom take us,” Ipid breathed. They’d had a few deaths to this point, but nothing like that.

  “It’s worse, sir,” Jon continued cautiously.