The False Martyr

by H. Nathan Wilcox

  “The sun set about an hour ago,” Valati Lareno answered. “Shall we return you to your inn? I’m sure you would like a bath and a hot meal after such a day.”

  Dasen shook his head to remove some of the cobwebs then clenched his temples in hope of mitigating the pounding in his head. He desperately wanted the bath and meal, but he felt that he was forgetting something. His eyes and mind began to clear. He released his head and looked toward the valati. He was framed by the shape of a fortress.

  “I have something to do first.” Dasen rose far less majestically than he’d hoped. One of his feet was asleep, and it made his walk to the back of the wagon into a clumsy series of stumbles. At the wagon’s open back, Valati Lareno guided him to the ground. Dasen barely took his eyes from his ultimate destination long enough to acknowledge the valati, and when he was down, he immediately turned toward the walkway that wound up the hill through the garden to the fortress’ back entrance. Foot still asleep, his stride was unsteady, punctuated by what felt like a walkway of needles. His teeth clenched against the pain in his foot, but he barely noticed for the fury that was rising within him. The haze of his nap was gone, replaced by the memory of what he had seen and the promises he had made.

  “My lady,” Valati Lareno called, “where are you going? The inn is in the opposite direction, and you should have an escort. I sent someone to fetch your man. He should be here in a few minutes.” He followed Dasen up the hill accompanied by a half-dozen counselors and initiates.

  “I’m not going to the inn,” Dasen growled. “I promised the people at that camp that I would speak with the governor, and that is exactly what I intend to do.”

  “My lady,” Valati Lareno wove scandal into his too-loud voice, “you cannot just storm the fortress of Gorin and make demands of the governor.”

  Even through his anger, Dasen realized how carefully those words had been chosen. He did not bother to respond. He realized how the valati was manipulating him, knew that he was doing exactly what that weasel wanted, but it was also the right thing to do. It was the thing that Lady Esther would do. It was what he should have done when he toured his father’s mills. As Dasen, he was sure that he would not have the courage required to stand up to a governor with unlimited power, but Lady Esther was a different creature. She was strong, sure, immortal. Who knew that make-up and a dress could be such powerful armor?

  The path to the fortress was winding, steep, and longer than it appeared. Dasen hobbled past close-trimmed hedges interspersed with rose bushes, under low, flowering trees, through pointless trestles covered in red ivy with his holy entourage in tow. With each step, Valati Lareno implored him to reconsider, told him all the laws and rules he was breaking, warned him of the risks he was taking. Each comment was nearly yelled as if he hoped to proclaim them to the entire city when it was only a half-dozen of his own people who could possibly hear his exhortations.

  Dasen reached the top of the hill almost entirely out of breath. He brought his hands to his knees and gasped to recover the air required for the tirade he planned for the surely recalcitrant guards he would find protecting the metal gate between the garden path and the main wall of the fortress. He looked up expecting to see the guard’s lowered spears. Instead, he found the face of the governor.

  “Lady Esther?” the governor said, surprise clear. He looked around himself on the other side of the rot iron gate, at the four guards and old man that accompanied him, then at the half-dozen soldiers in the garden, and finally past Dasen to the holy men in his wake. “Did you think I meant for us to dine tonight?” His eyes studied Lady Esther from top to bottom in the light of the lamps that hung on either side of the gate. Two of his guards lifted the lamps they carried to illuminate the subject of their leader’s attention.

  “What are you wearing?” he asked with honest surprise. “Why, you are filthy. You look like a soldier coming off campaign. What kind of trouble have my friends from the temple been getting you into?” He stared long at Valati Lareno, who had taken a place several paces below Dasen.

  “I’ve been to your camp,” Dasen spat, finally recovering his breath and moving past his shock. He was still speaking through the cloth and almost ripped it away before remembering that he almost certainly had a full day of unobscured stubble beneath.

  “Oh,” the governor replied. His small smile fell, and his eyes became uncertain. “It was my understanding that only the valati and a few of his people would be going to the camp. If I had known, I would have insisted that you remain here. It is, I am afraid, no place for a lady. I hope that you were not molested in any way. It is my understanding that it is very nearly lawless.”

  “It is an abomination,” Dasen yelled. “It is a sacrilege against the Order. It is an affront to everything these Unified Kingdoms are meant to be.” Dasen approached the gate as he yelled, causing the guards to block his way. Two of them moved to restrain him. He looked down at their hands moving toward him then at their faces. They seemed to reconsider the wisdom of touching a noble woman without her permission, no matter the need.

  “My lady,” the governor kept his voice civil, but Dasen could see his eyes harden. His slim mouth drew into a line, and his jaw clenched. “Perhaps you should come in, and we will discuss this like adults. I just finished my meal and was on my evening stroll – I find it helps me to clear my mind – but you must be famished. I’m sure we can find you something.”

  “I do not dine with monsters,” Dasen yelled, voice rising with his anger. “In fact, I will not dine again until something is done. You are killing those people. You might as well line them up and hang them from a gallows. It would be faster and more merciful than the deaths you have given them.”

  “Watch yourself, young lady,” the governor growled. “I am the law here by order of the Chancellor. I don’t care who your family is or how much money they possess. I will not be questioned. I do what I do for the good of all the people of this city.”

  “Then arrest me,” Dasen yelled. “I am out past your curfew. Send me to the camp to die slow just like the children I saw today. Children, for the Order’s sake. You monster! If we cannot find enough to feed our children, then we deserve to be destroyed by the invaders. We deserve to be conquered, because this is not a nation worth saving.”

  The governor’s eyes nearly popped from his head. He stammered. His soldiers looked at each other uncertain. The exception was the old man. He was trying to hide a smile. The site of it nearly disarmed Dasen. He looked away from the advisor before he could be drawn into that smile and focused on the governor. He was clearly trapped in his outrage, wanting more than anything to have this rebel arrested but constrained by the uproar he knew it would cause.

  Dasen saved him the trouble. “Well, if you will not arrest me and send me to the camp, then I shall return of my own freewill. I will go there tomorrow and every day after. And if there are not wagons of food and clean water waiting, I will go house to house and beg the people of this city for contributions. I will forego my own meals and give them to the people of your camp. And if you try to stop me, I will appeal to the Chancellor directly. I am sure he will be dismayed to hear that I have been arrested and placed in your Order-cursed death camp.” Dasen looked around him, forcing each of the guards’ eyes to the ground in turn. He spun on his heel. “Goodnight, sir,” he announced as he strode back down the hill.

  No words or guards followed him, only the murmurs of the counselors. He walked down the hill much faster than he had ascended, lost in his rage, until he heard a louder set of murmurs from before him. He broke from a small clump of trees and saw the temple. Hundreds of people stood outside it. Silence took them as soon as Lady Esther appeared. Dasen stopped. He stared at them in shock and fear.

  “Few people know this, but sound travels down from Gorin Hill with remarkable clarity,” Valati Lareno whispered in Dasen’s ear. “Standing out here at night, I can almost hear the governor talking to his advisors. He is a man of strict schedules, you know. He
always passes that same spot at the same time, and it just happened to correspond today with a bit of a scare in the temple. It seems a candle was knocked over and started a small fire.” Dasen looked down at the valati’s smile. It had all been a ploy. Lareno had orchestrated it all.

  Suddenly, Dasen felt light headed. His knees felt weak. His body trembled. Garth broke from the crowd and ran toward him. The Morg arrived just in time to catch him. The crowd gasped.

  “The Lady Esther is fine,” Valati Lareno said. “She has refused to eat all day. She has declared that she will not eat again until food, water, and medicine are provided for our brothers and sisters in the camp outside of town. She used her own knowledge of herbs to help them today. She drove herself past anything I have ever seen, as if the Order itself were working through her. But now, she must rest.” The valati turned to Garth. “Dear man, please take her to her room. She has already done more than any could ever expect.”

  #

  It was late, and Teth had been pacing outside the door to the Tappers’ residence for what seemed like hours when Mrs. Tappers found her. “My dear child, what is the matter?” she asked, taking Teth’s arm and pulling her toward the door.

  “What are they doing?” she started almost before she was through the door. “They’re going to kill him.” She stumbled through the door, out of the hall, and into the same chair where she had cried a week before.

  “My dear,” Mrs. Tappers sat next to her and rubbed her back. “What are you talking about? What could possibly have upset you so?”

  “Lareno! He’s going to betray us. He . . . he . . . . I heard him talking with Kian. That day I ran off, I ran up to the temple and overheard him talking with Kian.” The words tumbled from Teth without any thought of the consequences. She had been in a frenzy ever since Dasen had returned and told her everything he’d done: how he’d gone to the Camp, had treated the people there for the Wasting Death, had used her knowledge of herbs to do it. And even more that he planned to defy the governor and go back again, that he would go on a hunger strike and beg food and bring medicine every day. It had all been too much for her, so she’d sought the only refuge, the only confidence she had. “He’s setting Dasen up to take the city, then he’s going to trade him to the invaders. They think that he will be more valuable then, that they could even use him to become the leaders of the Kingdoms. I heard Lareno say it. I know he’s planning it all. It’s all a trap, but it’s far too risky. Dasen is going to get killed, or discovered, or arrested, or . . . . I don’t know, but he’s falling right into it, and I . . . we need to get him away before it all falls apart.”

  Mrs. Tappers put a hand on her knee to stop her rant. “Thank you for telling me that, Teth. We knew not to trust Kian, but Lareno has always seemed different. I thought he would be the voice of reason. I am just glad now that we never included him in any of this.” She looked off toward the door, eyes growing distant, then let out a great sigh. “I will tell you. I agree that Lareno’s plan seems foolhardy, but the man does have an incredible gift for planning, and I’m not sure there is anything else we can do. Mark and I are working on something, but it will probably be some time before we can find a boat, fill it with supplies, arrange for you to take it. It is a lot to plan, especially with the city as it is. And if you don’t play along with their scheme, Kian and Lareno will get suspicious and make it all the harder. I don’t like it any more than you, but I just don’t see that we have any other choice right now but to take the risk and go along. And to pile on even further, I think we may still need more help. Do you think we can trust Garth?”

  Teth was thrown by Mrs. Tapper’s calm response. In her panic, she had entirely lost track of the larger scheme, of the fact that Kian and Lareno needed Dasen alive, that their entire plan revolved around it. Now, her mind lurched to Garth. The Morg had become more and more engaged with her training over the past few days. He treated her like a daughter – or more like a son. He worked her hard, was almost always with her, repositioning her in his poses, guiding her through techniques with knife or sword, practicing throws and grapples. “I suppose so,” she answered. “He certainly doesn’t like Kian, and he’s never done anything other than protect us.”

  “Can you talk to him? See if he can help us get Dasen out of the city when the time comes? Neither Mark nor I are very capable of protecting Dasen or getting him to a boat, and Kian’s not likely to trust us anyway. With Garth’s help, however, I’m confident that we can find a way.”

  Teth was wary. This plan was her only hope to find her release while still protecting Dasen. If it went wrong, everything would be lost.

  “I know it is hard for you, my dear.” Mrs. Tappers must have sensed her doubt. “But you trusted us. We have to have more help, and I think Garth is the one to give it. I know it’s a risk, but this is a risky thing we are doing.”

  Teth chewed her lip and picked at her thumb. “I’ll try to talk to him.”

  “Alright,” Mrs. Tappers sighed in relief. “I should get back before I’m missed. With all the attention that will be focused on Lady Esther, we can’t possibly do anything until the city is in disorder. As you saw today, that is still some ways away. Hold tight until then. Remember Lareno and Kian need Dasen alive and safe. If something happens to him, they get nothing. Despite how it seems, they’ll do everything they can to keep him safe. That said, try to get a feel for Garth. If we can swing him to our side, then I know we can do it. Agreed?”

  Teth nodded.

  “And cheer up,” Mrs. Tappers smiled and wiped a tear from Teth’s cheek. “Lareno is a smart man, but he can’t control everything. Mr. Tappers and I know this city better than he ever could, and the Order knows we can be just as sneaky when the need arises.” The old matron smiled kindly and patted Teth’s knee with her hand. Teth could not help but return the smile. She was still not convinced, but if this all somehow worked, Dasen would escape and the valati would give her exactly what she wanted. His ambition would turn him against his own god and provide a way out of the web he’d woven.

  Chapter 48

  The 39th Day of Summer

  It was Rynn. Part of Ipid wanted to deny it, but it was obvious from the moment his thin face and long golden hair appeared around the door. His mind flashed to the last time he had seen Dasen’s best friend, sitting in a corral, splattered with blood, more animal than man. For some reason, that shattered version of Rynn was the one that Ipid expected to see, but the boy who walked through the door looked like he had never known that grief and terror. Dressed in simple work clothes – canvas pants, light wool shirt loosely laced at the front, and a brown felt vest – he looked more like one of Ipid’s village boys than the son of a Liandrin lord, but he was clean, hair combed, patchy growth of a beard trimmed as much as possible. He was painfully thin, but Ipid knew that it was not the result of starvation – he was as stout now as Ipid had ever seen him. He looked healthy – skin tanned, movements sure, gaze level, eyes bright – and showed no signs of abuse – no scars, pain, hesitation, or fear. At the same time, Ipid knew immediately that this was not the same Rynn that had travelled with them to Dasen’s joining ceremony. He was calm, controlled, steady. His eyes were focused forward. His hands were held before him. His steps were slow and steady. His mouth was an expressionless line. And most significant of all, he was quiet.

  Following the boy was the man who had, apparently, managed this transformation where parents, tutors, teachers, and counselors had failed throughout the entirety of Rynn’s eighteen years. Shrouded in the te-am ‘eiruh’s traditional black robes, Rynn’s teacher was a tall man and thin by the cut and lay of his robes, but Ipid could see nothing more of him. He had supplemented his hood with a black veil that left his features as nothing more than hints even in the bright light of early afternoon. Remaining several paces back from his student, the man – Ipid assumed it was a man from the height if nothing else – shambled slowly across the room teetering as if he might fall at any moment, as if someone shou
ld be following to catch him when, not if, he did.

  Before Ipid could say anything to the new arrivals, Eia brushed past him from the perch she had taken by the window. “Naidi, I am so pleased to see you again,” she greeted warmly, using her universal language in the empty room – it being Teaching Day, Ipid had given the bookkeepers and secretaries the day off, leaving only a cluster of Darthur milling by the door. Passing by Rynn as if he were not there, she placed a hand on the tall man’s arm and looked at him like she was greeting a favorite brother who’d just returned from war, like she wanted nothing more than to take him in a crushing embrace but unsure what that would do to him if she did. Only when he turned his veiled face from her did she seem to notice the boy who proceeded him. “Who is it that you have brought with you?”

  “Rynn,” Ipid supplied the answer. He finally managed to push his heavy chair back and find his feet through the shock of seeing a ghost from his past followed by a man that could have been a real ghost. The pile of reports he had been reading – primarily so that he would not have to speak with Eia – tumbled from their stack to litter the floor. Ipid ignored them. He came around the desk, nearly ran to the boy, and wrapped his arms around him. The hug that Rynn returned was tentative, but Ipid paid it no mind. “By the good and holy Order am I glad to see you.” He held the boy back and examined him from top to bottom. “It looks like they’ve treated you well enough.”

  “They have, sir,” Rynn answered in the Imperial tongue – seemingly having not yet earned the robes or language of his new masters. His voice was soft and slow so that Ipid had to look at him twice.

  “So you went to be trained by the te-am ‘eiruh?” It was the first time Ipid ever remembered asking Rynn two questions – one was typically more than enough to fill an afternoon.