Jem threw the knife. The Well guided. It struck Lu in the chest. Blood trickled from the wound. Lu looked down at the knife then back at Jem, disbelief in his eyes. He leaned against his staff and his funny hat fell off his brow. Lu’s face began to pale.
Jem watched, stunned. He had thrown the knife, the same knife buried deep within Lu’s heart. The old man opened his mouth to speak, but blood poured forth instead of words. Lu’s eyes rolled back into his skull and his knees buckled as he fell backward, disappearing behind the boulder. The sudden force threw the staff from its perch. It landed on the road.
Jem ran to help, but Lu was lying flat on his back, blood shrouding his face and chest. Jem stared at the corpse, then at his knife, then at Lu’s face. He didn’t understand. He had been so angry. So frightened. But the old man had clearly been insane. There could not have been any truth to his words. So why had Jem been so furious? And why had he thrown the knife? Was he like his father? Quick to anger, quick to judge?
Jem looked at the soot on his hands, a stab of guilt sweeping through him. He trembled and dropped to his knees. Holding his head in his hands, panic filled his heart. He couldn’t stay here. What would happen if someone found him? They would blame him. It was his knife. It was his fault. He had killed this man. He looked again at Lu’s face and then at the soot on his hands. He knew what he must do. He dipped his hands in the blood. A strange feeling swept through him. It felt out of place. The feeling was pleasure. No, not pleasure; ecstasy.
He cringed at his own callousness as he screamed his disappointment. He took his hands from the blood, but the feeling remained. Despite the guilt, he could feel the energy and the power of it all, the sense of wonder and joy at such a horrible act. How could he enjoy this? The Well remained oddly silent. It made no claim.
Jem wiped his brow with a sleeve as he gazed into Lu’s lifeless eyes. He stared into the pupils and noted the color, a dark brown. He studied the wrinkles of the man’s face and marked the freckles and shadows of his form. He would remember this man, this man he had killed in a fit of anger and fear, guilt and jealousy. He considered burying the body, but feared to touch the blood a second time.
Finally, he stood and returned to the crossroads. He saw the staff lying in the road. It was a simple staff, cut from birch. No special markings, no elaborate patterns, only the carving of a bird at one end. The staff pointed east. Grudgingly, Jem picked it up, turned west, and ran.
Shortly after, Lu stood from the grass, cackling in delight. He pulled the knife from his chest and studied it. Holding it up to the light, Lu sniffed it. He licked the blade to sample his own blood and instantly regretted it. To get the taste from his mouth, Lu spat, but his effort gained him little. He knew what blood tasted like. Blood was foaming from my lips only a moment ago, why would I need to taste it? he wondered. Because! This was heart blood, the other was mouth blood. Not the same thing, he decided. To prove it, he licked the iron blade a second time. See! More metally!
With a sleeve, Lu wiped the blood from his face, spattering the red fluid against the boulder. He climbed back onto the rock, giggling as he did so. He climbed back down the other side, and stepped onto the road. Why go around when you can go over, he always said. Wait! Why go over when I can go around! He turned, climbed back over the boulder, and went around. He chuckled at his own creativity then sighed. Some games grew tiresome when overplayed. Lu found his hat at the base of the stone, put it on his head, and looked to the west. The boy was long out of sight. Perhaps he should not have fed the boy’s insecurities, but he so enjoyed testing conviction.
“Stubborn little butcher,” he said. “The bastard still went west.”
Lu adjusted his hat.
“Where’s my staff?”
A flash of light and a cold wind announced a new arrival, even before she spoke.
“Playing in my garden?” Fate asked.
Lu froze, wondering at first, if the voice was real or simply imagined. Upon deciding it was real, and that the cold-hearted bitch wherefrom all evil things did originally originate did, in fact, stand behind him, wondered if he simply closed his eyes and pretended not to have heard, if she would simply go away.
She did not. Fate never went away ‘simply.’
“Your garden?” Lu asked. He turned to face the beast in full form. She looked the same as ever. A cane not so nice as his missing staff. Spectacles not so nice as Lu’s pointed blue hat. “Is your garden not in Atherahn, these days?”
“Oh, Dydal, certainly not,” Fate said. “Have you not learned by now, that the whole world is my garden?”
“I am not Not Lu.”
Fate chuckled, tapping her cane gently against Lu’s rock. “No,” she said. “Of course not.” She dipped her head in the direction of Lu’s bloodstains. “You let him touch your blood. In need of another blooder, Dydal?”
“Me? I do not prop up the Butcher’s Cult, nor let them terrorize innocents in the name of a long-forgotten shrew. And, I am not Not Lu.”
Fate’s grip tightened upon her cane. “Do not besmirch my sister.”
“Sister?” Lu cocked his head to one side. “You do not have a sister. Even when Death lived, you did not have a sister.” Did she have a sister? He couldn’t remember.
Fate glared, but her words were soft. “So arrogant, yet so ignorant. But, what should I expect? You may be the god of Thought, Dydal, but Thought is not wisdom. Once again, you are meddling in my affairs.”
“Am I?” Lu thought back to the events of the last few days. He recalled doing very many things, but he wasn’t entirely sure which of those things had been him. Did I kill my father? Me? Lu wondered. Yes, yes me. But no, that didn’t seem right. Maybe he had killed Fate’s sister? Yes, that one sounded better. But that had not been recently. “I don’t seem to recall having done anything to meddle in your affairs.” Other than killing her sister, who… happened not to be her sister… “And, I am not Not Lu.”
“Do not try to exempt yourself from guilt by playing games. You just brought the Whore’s whelp out into the world.”
“Have I?” Lu glanced west, down the path the boy had taken. He did remember that. He had felt the Whore’s scent upon the boy, and had stopped to see the oddity. Lu patted at his breast. There was a button in his pocket. He sensed that he should touch it, then urged himself not to. This was not the time for a clear head. Not while Fate was so very close. Had to keep her guessing. Yes… Yes, that sounded right.
What had they been talking about? Lu glanced around them and saw the bloodstains in the grass. Oh, yes, she believed that he had murdered someone. Had he? Well, did he want her to think that he’d murdered someone?
“I didn’t do anything,” Lu protested. What had he been doing? Oh, yes. The Assassin. “I was simply passing by. Following the course of an old friend.”
“Oh,” Fate drawled, “and which friend is that?”
Lu swallowed. “Oh. Uhm…” He had not thought she would think to ask. What could he tell her? ‘Oh, I just hired the Assassin to foil your plans, but don’t do anything about it because I truly was just passing by a few moments ago, and genuinely had no idea that a young godling was holed up in Vale.’
Me? Lu thought. Yes. Yes, me.
He had let the Assassin go… but, better to let Fate think this boy was his true purpose here.
Lu forced a nervous chuckle. “An old friend,” Lu repeated.
Fate sighed. “Return the boy to Vale. Now.”
“I didn’t take him from it.”
“Return him.”
“But I cannot. That would be meddling. In your garden.” Hadn’t she insisted that he not do that? Why did others have to be so confusing? “Why would I meddle where I have not already?” Lu frowned. “Why don’t you return him?”
Fate said nothing.
Lu could feel the smile spreading on his lips. “Clarissa,” he said, making special note to use her given name. “Why don’t you return him? Made some kind of promise, have we? Something you
cannot break?” Again, Lu patted his breast. He could feel the little, four-holed disk in his pocket. He had picked it special just for this occasion, but… no. Not yet. Not yet. It wasn’t time for understanding yet. He pulled his hand away and looked at it. Why was his hand so sticky?
Fate released a fuming groan. “You know the promise I have made,” she said slowly. “Do not pretend otherwise. Return the boy before I must take action.”
Lu did not know, but that did not keep his smile from widening. What have I stumbled upon? Something that made his fingers sticky, clearly. “Say,” he said, “you’re looking rather haggard of late… Been breaking a lot of promises lately? Afraid, perhaps, that if you defy your aspect one more time, that it might finally kill you?”
Fate glared, but did not answer. Perhaps he’d been wrong all along. Maybe he did want her focused on other matters. On anything but this boy; perhaps even the Assassin… What could he do with a soul completely free from Fate’s tether? And truly, wasn’t he always trying to keep her focused on any other matter aside from that for which she was currently focused on?
Lu laughed. Yes, that sounded correct.
“Fine, Clarissa. Fine. I will not interfere, but you must believe me. I have done naught, but to stop and greet a curiosity.” I think…
“You expect me to believe that?”
He didn’t. “It is the truth.” It wasn’t. “Go ask the boy. I told him to go east!” That little shit had stolen his staff…
“East?”
“Yes, east.”
“Why east?”
Yes, why east? he wondered. He’d wanted something, hadn’t he? Oh, that was right. The book. “Because I had intentions that he should bring me a book, yet there he goes, off to the west.” Was I supposed to tell her that? Lu wondered. Yes, he was. Just… he wasn’t supposed to tell her about the Assassin. Or about the book.
“A book?” Fate asked.
“Yes, yes, a book. Teachings of a Whore. I wanted the boy to retrieve it, except I wasn’t supposed to…” Oh.
“Supposed to what?”
“Read it.”
Fate glared at him. He smiled back at her.
“What could you possibly want from Teachings of a Whore?”
“Does that matter?” he wondered aloud. The question was as much for him as it was for her.
“That depends, do you want to convince me of your innocence, or would you prefer that I have you deposed as Cleric?”
“Deposed as Cleric? With what?” He very much wanted to know. “Taehrn Andren and his like? With the Magistrate Godahn?” Those two were after him… but he’d sent someone to deal with that, too. Hopefully.
“Why do you want the book?”
Lu feigned an aggrieved sigh. “My own copy was damaged.”
“And you’re missing your own work? Your ego can’t just let such drivel die?”
“My work?” Had he written Teachings of a Whore?
Me? Lu wondered. Yes, he decided. Yes, me. No. wait, not him. He was not Not Lu.
“Yes,” Fate said. “Your work.”
“But it’s not my work. I am not Not Lu.”
“Of course, of course.” Fate sighed and stepped closer. “You are not Dydal, as you so often claim.” Her voice was soothing and agreeable, so soft, it almost made him want to like her. And then her words got shrill and angry, “What is so important about this book?”
“It’s not important.”
“You just said it was.”
“Did I?”
“You said you wanted it.”
“Did I? I believe I said I attempted to send the boy to retrieve it. Those are not the same thing.”
“Why would you send him?”
“Why not? A young man must have something to do…”
“You’re playing games with me.”
“Me? Never? You must be thinking of someone else. Not Lu, perhaps?”
Fate stepped forward as if to grab Lu’s robes. He jumped back, preventing her from touching the blood which stained his chest. Wouldn’t want her seeing too much…
“Keeping me at a distance?” Fate asked. She stopped and smiled, yet she did not lower her hand.
“I still have some sanity.” At least, he was pretty sure.
Fate chuckled. “I’m beginning to think it’s time I dragged you into my cottage, Dydal. What do you say?”
He glanced up and down her withered form. “Young men don’t need something to do that badly. And, I am not Not Lu.”
“As if you’re a young man, Dydal. And you know what I meant.”
“Of course. A bargain.” Fate was always making bargains. She wasn’t very good at it though. Not very good at it at all. Not like Lu. Or Not Lu, for that matter. Who he happened not to be. “And, I am not Not Lu!”
Fate glared at him, dully. “Do you think that you are fooling me, Dydal?”
“Yes,” he said proudly. And he was. “You wish me to be fated, but the trouble is you’ve tried before, and it hasn’t worked.” Usually. “And, I am not Not Lu.”
She gave him an exhausted look. “Just tell me what I want to know.”
Lu shrugged, then proceeded to tell her that which he wasn’t supposed to be telling her, “A woman defiled the book, and when she did so, the book sent out a ripple.”
“A ripple?”
“Yes, a ripple.”
“What happened?”
Lu frowned at her. “I just said…” Hadn’t he just said? Yes, he had. “A woman defiled the book.”
“And it sent out a ripple?”
“Yes,” Lu agreed. “A trickling of power, whose source could only be the Mother.”
Fate raised an eyebrow. “Ahh… so you think to trace it to her?”
Lu frowned. Was that why he wanted the book? Good enough. “Well, what else could I do?”
“I told you that you would not see the Mother again. Not until she completes her task.”
“Have you ever known me to accept your terms?”
Fate nodded to the west, to the boy whose silhouette had faded into the distance. “Is that an admission of your guilt? That you have interfered?”
Probably, he thought. “No,” he said. “Our goals are aligned.” And for the moment, they were. “I have no reason to interfere with this boy. Indeed, I have no reason to break your deal with the Whore at all. I simply need her presence, a presence which you have denied me.”
“And what? You think in coming here, in meddling in my affairs, that you can force me to break this deal and give you what you desire?”
“Of course not. I know better than that,” he lied. “My presence here was purely coincidental.”
“You lie.”
“Do I? I don’t think so.” He really didn’t think so. “I think you did this.”
“What are you saying?”
Lu smiled. “You don’t know?” He had made his decision. He knew what he had to do.
“Know what?”
“Are you admitting, Clarissa, that I have a better ear to what your people are up to than you yourself?”
Fate frowned at him. “What happened?”
Lu exhaled a somber breath, and took the chance he knew he had to take. A boy untethered by Fate… With a soft brush against the pocket which held the button, he spoke.
“I told you, I came here to see a friend. I was, in fact, letting free the Assassin.”
“The Assassin? Why?”
“Because the book is presently in Planner’s domain.”
“And you don’t want her to realize you are meddling in her garden. So, you want the Assassin to steal the book out from under Planner’s nose.”
Lu smiled.
“And that brought you here?” Fate asked.
“It brought me near here. Then I felt an aura I’d not felt in some time. An aura belonging to… one of yours. It brought me here.”
Fate turned her gaze to the north, to the city of Vale and its scent of ash and sorrow. She was silent for several moments, and then sh
e sighed and closed her eyes. “Taehrn and Godahn… I told them not to interfere.”
“Yes,” Lu agreed. Interfering was never good. Especially not when they did it. “Yes, strange that they have done so…” Lu’s voice was sweet and unthreatening. Surely, with his voice so sweet, she would believe anything he said. “It’s almost as though they are not as loyal as you thought. After all… our friend in Liv, who does he really serve?” It was a risk, perhaps premature, but this was an opportunity he could not miss.
“You think they have betrayed me?”
“I think that you have not interfered, and I have not interfered, yet clearly someone has. But who?” Ohhh, Just is going to be mad. No, Just was already mad. Was he?
“Who did this?”
Lu shrugged. “I can only think of one player in this game outside both your control and mine. And look at who they’ve targeted? Another of the Mother’s children.”
“Just…”
“He is acting so very odd of late, is he not?” Lu suppressed a chuckle.
Fate’s eyes narrowed. “In what way?”
“It is almost like his madness is clearing… Like someone, or something, is giving his mind new focus.”
“You’ve sensed it also.”
“Indeed…” Lu agreed, shaking his head fervently. “The figure in his thoughts. The heckler in Just’s shadow.”
“Even if you were right… my people would not side with him.”
“Wouldn’t they?”
“No.”
“Why?” Lu asked.
“Because they want what only I can give them.”
“They want to depose me as High Cleric. And the boy’s father would have been quite the prize; perhaps their only chance to unseat me, and you did promise them that you would unseat me, didn’t you?” Yes, she had. “Yet, here I am, still seated.” Lu glanced at his legs. Except that he was standing. Why would he say something so foolish?
“They are loyal.”
“Perhaps they’ve grown impatient.”
“Godahn is loyal.”
“But can you say the same of Taehrn? Does he believe in you the way Magistrate Godahn does? And can you really be so certain of the Magistrate himself? Just’s armies are marching off to war, and Taehrn Andren is among them. Whatever is whispering in Just’s ear, it knows exactly where to strike you. Exactly where to put pressure.”
Death's Merchant: Common Among Gods - Book One Page 5