The False Martyr

by H. Nathan Wilcox

  Ipid paced the floor of his office, waiting. He desperately wished that he could have accompanied the thieves on their missions but was left to imagine what was happening in the vault of every major bank in the Kingdoms, to imagine the ramps being built, the gold sliding down those ramps through the magical portals that led to the Darthur home, the young men and women who built those ramps being taken to learn the ways of the te-am ‘eiruh so that no witnesses remained. It was the one idea that had survived from the night that Eia turned all his other plans on their heads, and if it worked, the people of the Kingdoms would not even realize that the gold was gone until both Ipid and the Darthur had followed it out of their lands.

  Now, it just had to work. Any complications or discovery would bring everything he had done crashing down. The resulting riots would tear the Kingdoms apart just as the end was in sight. And Ipid could barely stand the waiting to find out. He paced like a cat in a cage. The minutes crept by like hours. With the sum total of the Kingdom’s military forces marching through the city to join the Darthur and another curfew in place, his office was entirely empty. Not even Eia was there to distract or comfort him.

  And though the thought of her was certainly a distraction, it provided little comfort. Their night together in Dorington had been the breakthrough that Eia had wanted. A horrific odyssey of pain, depravation, and extraordinary release, it had left him feeling cleansed. All his pain, sorrow, guilt, anger, and longing had poured into that one act. In that swirl of emotions, his every constraint had been stripped away, and he had done things that he never would have allowed himself to consider. Again and again, falling lower and lower, deeper and deeper until the morning light had cut through the darkness. But this time, the light brought no guilt. The pain he shared with Eia had been catharsis, a shared experience that brought them together as no other could. Even now, he felt the burns on his chest, the gouges along his back, the ache in his still healing arm from the previous night, and thought of them not as pain but pleasure.

  Feeling himself falling into the memory, he returned his thoughts to the week to come. As he paced, the sum of the Kingdom’s military was marching to join the Darthur. They came from the south through Gorin up the Alta, through Orinsburg to join the northern flank on the banks of Lake Inver, preparing to invade the Fells when Liandria had surrendered, and finally, through Wildern, taking with them any hope that Ipid had of controlling the Kingdom’s capital. Even now, Arin and his army would be arriving at their staging ground north of Lianne and preparing to cross, preparing for another Battle of Testing, preparing to receive another vassal. And the army of the Kingdoms would help them, would fight their ally, would aid the invaders in their conquest of the world because there was no other option available.

  “This is it,” Ipid told himself. The gold would be delivered today. The food and weapons had been supplied, enough to feed Arin’s army for weeks, and the marching men carried more. The Kingdoms had been stripped bare. He had done what he’d promised. The only thing left was to wait for the end, wait for the mobs, wait for his place in infamy. If not for his desire to burnish Stully’s reputation by allowing himself to be overthrown, he could join Arin today, could walk through one of Eia’s portals and be done.

  The appearance of a portal in the center of the room brought him finally from his worries. He turned and watched Eia step from it as casually as if walking through a door. “Is it done?” he nearly leapt at her.

  “Hello, my love,” Eia answered. “How was your day? You look tired, let me rub your shoulders.” She threw back the hood of her robe. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather start with something like that?”

  Ipid took a breath. He was not in the mood for her games. “Hello, my love,” he said, trying to find a smile. “How was your day? You look tired, let me rub your shoulders.”

  “It has been a long day. But my feet are what really hurt.” She fell into a chair beside his desk and lifted her feet over the arm. She slid her slippers off and wiggled her toes at him.

  Eyes rolling, Ipid took a foot that was almost smaller than his hand. He pressed on the arch and heel, running his fingers over the calloused skin. Eia moaned and threw her head back. “Mmmm, other one.”

  Ipid complied. “So how did it go?” He tried to keep his voice casual as if asking her about a day spent shopping for dresses.

  “Oh, you know, same old thing.” Eia watched him through languid eyes. “Calves now, please.”

  Ipid moved his hands up her slim legs, massaging her calves, caressing the smooth skin. “Anything exciting happen?” he tried again, dying to know but caught in her game, forced to play.

  “I think I’ll have a bath,” she sighed. “It was dirty work. I feel as if I am absolutely covered in gold. Do I sparkle?” She looked down at herself, brushing her robes, then brought her eyes back, waiting for a reaction.

  “You got it?”

  “Got a bath? No, I was hoping you would draw one for me.” Eia raised the foot that he was not holding and ran it down his chest.

  “We have servants for that.”

  “But how will you pay them? All your gold is gone. Every scrap of it.”

  Ipid felt his spirits lifting through the very roof.

  “Ouch!” Eia gasped. Ipid looked down at his hands and saw that he had been squeezing her leg in his excitement. “Save that for later.” She stood and reversed their positions, pushing him into the chair behind him. “It is all there. The Darthur wives have accepted it.” She straddled him and ran her fingers through his hair. “The young men and women who helped to load it have gone with my brothers and sisters to be trained. No one knows what we have done. If you keep the banks sealed, they will not know for weeks. You have done it.” She leaned forward and nipped at his lip with her teeth before settling in for a kiss.

  Ipid prepared himself for what the kiss suggested, gathered the emotions he had bottled for this very moment.

  Eia pushed off of him and rose to her feet. “I really do want a bath.”

  She strode from the room, leaving Ipid to feel the loss of her as he felt the relief of yet another task completed. Then he remembered what his reward would be for completing this duty. He watched the door where she had departed as much for her return as for the mob that could come any day to end his tyrannical reign.

  Chapter 66

  The 53rd Day of Summer

  “Are you ready?” Valati Lareno whispered in Dasen’s ear. They stood before the carved double doors that led from the River Maiden to the militarized city outside. Light streamed through the windows at the top of each of those doors such that Dasen could see nothing outside. He wondered what waited for him. A mob as Lareno promised or soldiers set to arrest him as he feared. And was the mob any better?

  “Remember,” Lareno whispered again. “We are just stirring the pot. Create a standoff then back down. Don’t give the governor or the crowd any reason to act.”

  Dasen nodded. They had been over the plan a half-dozen times in his room as Mrs. Tappers applied the disguise that made him into the sainted Deena Esther. The Governor had extended the city curfew another day. No one was allowed out of their homes, even to attend the weekly lessons. But Lady Esther, of course, could not be kept from the temple on a holy day. Valati Lareno and Mr. Tappers had been spreading rumors all night that she intended to break her house arrest, that she would go to the lessons, would defy the governor yet again.

  “The window is short,” Lareno urged, words growing more heated as Dasen hesitated. Behind them, a crowd that filled the River Maiden common room then flowed down the halls into the courtyard was growing restless. “We need to act now before the governor can move to stop us.”

  Dasen took a deep, shaking breath. He found Teth at his side, dressed as a boy, slicked-back hair covered by a conical hat, shirt buttoned to her throat, silk scarf tied around it, black vest and jacket, grey pants, polished black shoes with silver buckles. She managed a nervous smile. “You don’t have to do this,” she said.r />
  Valati Lareno sighed at that, but Dasen knew Teth was wrong. They had come too far to stop now. He took another deep breath. “I go to hear the Order lesson,” he announced to the door before him.

  With another breath, he pushed the doors open and stepped to the street beyond. The crowd behind him roared, but Dasen barely heard them over the rush of blood in his ears. He was blinded by the bright light outside. Lareno caught his arm and steadied him. The crowd gasped then roared as he found his feet. Before him, Dasen saw nothing but the blurred outlines of the row houses bordered by the blinding light of the sun. Where is the crowd? He felt his insides shake and legs tremble. Lareno’s mob is not here. I’m on my own.

  “Lady Esther,” a voice called from down the street to his left. Dasen turned. His eyes were finally adjusting to the light so that he could see the young man coming around the corner. His name was Tomas Cappers. Tall, handsome, and the first son of one of Gorin’s most prominent families, he had been with the crowd the day of Lady Esther’s first miracle and had become, in many ways, her leading disciple. “My lady,” he called again and bowed low, “may we accompany you to the weekly lessons?” He rose and strode forward so that Dasen saw Kian’s man, Jaren, flanking him. Sly faced and clever, he had been among the crowds accompanying him from the beginning and had become adept at yelling ‘miracle’ at opportune times.

  For a second, Dasen thought it would be only the two of them and his heart sank. Then the others came around the same corner. At the lead were men and women that he recognized from his first days of gathering food, but soon others followed, hundreds of men and women. They were still mainly younger, but all ages were represented. Dasen felt his pride swell. He knew that he did not deserve it but could not help but feel that he had done something remarkable.

  “And us?” another voice called from his right. Shifting his gaze, Dasen found another young man, this one more ragged. Riley Fox had not joined Lady Esther until the third day, but he had been a quick convert and risen fast. From the lower castes of the city, he brought with him dock workers and porters from the north side of the city along with their women and children. This group was even larger and more diverse than the far cleaner and better dressed crowd that flowed from the other side.

  Dasen felt himself grow. “The Order has guided us!” he shouted. “Let nothing deny us Its lessons this day!” He turned and strode as boldly as was possible for a person wearing ten pounds of silk and lace toward the temple. The crowd from the inn joined the two flowing from the streets and settled into a mass that filled the entirety of the wide street, stretching on for blocks. Before them, a patrol of soldiers watched wide-eyed then abandoned their posts and ran for the hill. Dasen led his followers around the corner to the city’s main street, the one that would lead to the front doors of the temple.

  The refugees who still sought asylum in its walls each night surrounded the temple. Valati Nommeck stood at the front of the crowd to receive them. This is easy, Dasen thought. There was nothing to block him. He need only lead his followers to the temple doors a few short blocks away. He took a breath and strode toward the hill.

  The sound of horses slowed him almost as soon as he started. A dozen riders charged into the last intersection before they began their ascent. For a heartbeat, Dasen thought they would charge, but they pulled up with great effort and pivoted to face the crowd. The riders wore hastily gathered bits of armor and the livery of the city guards, but the way they rode suggested that these were not common soldiers. The man in the middle of the group pulled off his helmet and urged his horse forward. It was Governor Colmar. He drew his sword and lifted it above his head.

  “Disperse,” he yelled, powerful voice creating a ripple in the crowd. “This city is under curfew for your own protection. The weekly lessons are cancelled by order of the Di Valati. If you do not return to your homes immediately, you will be arrested and taken to the camp outside town.”

  The crowd shook behind Dasen, murmured back and forth, but held their ground. A few men toward the front shouted indistinct insults and threats.

  Dasen raised a hand clad in pale-blue silk to stop them. He cleared his throat, took a breath, and prayed that his voice would hold. “I live my life according to the teaching of the Order,” he announced. His voice lacked the governor’s power or command, but he felt the crowd consolidate behind him at hearing it. “The Order has chosen me, has chosen us, to see that Its will is done. It has shown us a way to feed those who would starve, to heal those who were sick, to come together despite our hardships and see Its will done. You cannot deny us the right to hear Its message this day. We will come to the temple, we will hear the lesson, and we will do the Order’s bidding. We want no violence to mar the Order on this Its clearest day. Please, allow us to pass. We seek only the peace of the Order and to align ourselves to Its everlasting power.”

  Behind him, the crowd mumbled their agreement, some said prayers, a woman hummed. Inspiration struck.

  “You will not pass,” the governor was yelling though his voice had diminished. He looked at the men around him. Their horses shied such that they struggled to keep them in place, and they looked nervously back and forth. They were a dozen facing a mob of thousands. And at their lead was a woman believed by many to be the embodiment of the Order, a woman who performed miracles as most ate their breakfast. If things turned that way, they knew that they wouldn’t last five minutes.

  Dasen walked forward. With his first step, he began to sing.

  The Order is my guide.

  It shows me the way.

  Bringing the light

  Into every new day.

  Those around him picked up the simple hymn immediately, and it flowed back through the crowd until it rose in a wave.

  The Order is my guide.

  It shows me the way.

  Bringing the light

  Into every new day.

  Soldiers carrying spears and crossbows appeared, running down the hill and forming at the front of the riders. There were perhaps fifty, not nearly enough to slow the mob. The song rose. The soldiers trembled, looking at each other then toward the governor at their front. It could not be clearer that they wanted no part in this. In a few more paces, they would break.

  We can carry the day, Dasen thought. He felt elation rise with each step. The mob behind him was a living, singular creature. Its power was palpable. We can end this here. We can break them. The song reached its end and rose again.

  They were only twenty paces from the line of soldiers. The governor retreated behind them but was unlikely to find any protection there. Dasen expected to see him bolt for his fortress, to admit defeat and live to fight another day, but his eyes went not toward his fortress but toward the west, and he smiled.

  Dasen hesitated. His voice fell off and lost the hymn. He stumbled to a halt and barely restrained the surging mob behind him.

  The soldiers appeared. A column of cavalry rode from behind the buildings to the west and into the intersection a few paces ahead of Dasen and his followers. Their leader looked down the street at the crowd, eyes growing wide with shock. He peeled off from his troop and took up a position next to the governor. His men, however, did not stop. In a column five horses deep, they rode through the town. They were equipped for travel not battle – wore no armor and carried only the simplest weapons – but there were hundreds of them, they were mounted, and they just kept coming.

  The mob nearly tumbled collectively to the ground as they struggled to halt their momentum in the face of the army marching before them. The song stuttered to an awkward stop, replaced by murmurs. Certainty turned to doubt. Unity turned to fear.

  The cavalry commander spoke with the governor. Dasen could not hope to hear their words but the gestures toward the crowd were clear. Finally, with a look of distaste, the commander rose in his stirrups and addressed the mob. “People of Gorin,” he yelled, voice husky but as strong as the governor’s. “I apologize for disturbing your Teaching Day, but we
march on order of the Chancellor and cannot be delayed. Return to your homes and do not venture forth this day. We ask only that you provide beds for your brothers who follow and keep the streets clear. If you cooperate, we will cause you as little discomfort as possible and will be quickly gone from your city. Now, in the name of the Chancellor disperse!”

  Behind him the procession of riders had not dwindled. Even if the mob pressed on, they would be met by hundreds of by mounted soldiers that were not their sons, husbands, fathers. The crowd rumbled and started to collapse. Dasen knew that he had lost.

  “Go home,” he turned and yelled at the crowd. “The Chancellor has denied us the Order’s lesson, but we will not see the Order defamed with blood on Its clearest day. We have no dispute with these soldiers. They are our husbands, sons, and brothers. Give them every comfort you can and wish them well when they go.” Somehow, that felt like the right thing to say – certainly, he did not want to court any trouble with the army that would soon fill the city to bursting – but it left the crowd mumbling and uncertain. They needed more. “Do not lose faith!” he yelled. “The Order cannot be denied! Our day shall come!”

  Somewhere, someone took up the call. “Our day shall come!” Other followed, chanting all the way to their homes, carrying the slogan and resistance it embodied to every corner of the city.

  Chapter 67

  The 55th Day of Summer

  “Do you want to play cards?” Dasen asked. Watching Teth pace the small room was making his stomach hurt. They had a day to wait until everything happened. A day of sitting in this room with nothing to do but wait – and worry. And Teth seemed to have enough worry for both of them. He was never much of a card player, but he would do anything at this point to get her to sit down for a few minutes.