Taehrn’s eyes squinted before dropping to one of the maps. He picked up the roll and spread it on the table, reading it as he spoke.
“So, Jem, how are you taking to Legion life?”
Jem shrugged. “I’m happy to be here,” he repeated. Maybe he wasn’t as quick as he’d thought; apparently, the lie had been so easy, it needed to come out twice. Realizing his mistake, Jem flailed for more words. “I mean, I have enjoyed it.”
“Truly?” Taehrn asked, a brow arching. “Most who are inducted the way you were react poorly, but I suppose you must have known of the arrangement beforehand. Hold on a moment.”
Retrieving a tinderbox from his desk, Taehrn went to the entranceway and opened a large lantern overhanging the exit. Inside were two candles, one green, one black. Taehrn lit first the green, then the black. As the black flickered into life, the wick’s tip dotted by a mix of blue and green flame, the Well vanished.
Jem shifted in his chair. “What… what are those?”
“Ah, you noticed, did you?” Taehrn asked, the friendliness vanished from his voice. “Good. That will make this conversation easier. These candles were made by a Gelliner tallow-mage. The green will deaden sound, so that none might hear our words outside this tent, and the black… well, I am certain that you know already what it does.”
Jem did know. A sudden feeling of constriction had settled into his nerves. A feeling like his blood had stopped flowing in his veins. The Well was gone. No, not gone. It was… there, he still had the gift, he knew that it existed somewhere inside him, but it was dormant. Whatever that candle was, it had strangled Jem’s gift.
Taehrn turned from the candle, pocketing his tinderbox, glaring at Jem with a predatory stare. Jem stared right back at him. There was an odd silence as they gauged one another, strange because the tension did not seem to be anger, at least on Taehrn’s part, nor did it seem to be the slow observations of curiosity, nor the speechlessness of wonder – though the sudden dormancy of the Well had made Jem speechless. Taehrn looked at him with a silence that could only be described as tension itself, and certainly Jem was tense.
Here before him was the enemy which had bred him. Here was the man that had ruined his life, that had shone the light upon Jem’s own frailties; that had shown him that he was willing to give another’s life to make his own more bearable.
“Jem Trask,” Taehrn said, his voice thoughtful.
Trask, Jem noted. Taehrn had used his last name. So, it was true then. Taehrn had known him all along. But of course he had, Jem would not have garnered a second glance if Taehrn had not recognized him.
“Executioner,” Jem replied hesitantly.
“No, no. First Legionnaire now. I’ve been promoted since last we met.”
Jem nodded and waved his hand in less than enthusiastic congratulations.
“Have I made you nervous, Jem?” The way Taehrn said it was cocky as he put his hand on his sword hilt. “You seem awfully tense.”
Jem’s breathing shallowed as the incessant itch he’d felt since the morning in Lane burgeoned behind his eyes. The Well whispered, but the Wellstone failed to slide.
Pointing to the black candle, Taehrn smiled. The flame shimmered as black as the dye in the tallow. “Trying to use your magic? That will not work in here. But do not worry. Your magic is not needed. At least, not yet.” Taehrn stepped closer and leaned over to whisper in Jem’s ear. “You’ve got a big mouth, Jem, but I’m not here to hurt you. We’re friends, aren’t we?”
Jem didn’t say anything. His focus was for the candle.
Taehrn leaned away, the threat clear in his eyes. “No words, eh? You had plenty of words for Bell Cobbren.”
Jem licked his lips. “What… what did you do to the Well?”
Taehrn’s bushy eyebrows dropped inward. “Is that what you call it? My dear friend has always called it… the birthright? Yes, I think that’s the word. The green deadens sound, Jem, the black stops any with your affinities.” Taehrn shook his head in an expression of pity. “Tell me, Jem. What am I to do with you?”
Again, Jem licked his lips, his gaze darting to the candle before turning back to Taehrn. Allow me to cut your throat? Jem thought. Gods, was the man going to kill him here? It would not surprise him. Taehrn would do anything to protect himself.
“What do you want?” Jem asked.
“Want?” Taehrn frowned. “I don’t want anything. You’ve put me in an unfortunate position, Jem. Was this your father’s idea?”
Jem didn’t know what to say. How much of the events of recent weeks might Taehrn already know? Clearly, not that Jem’s father was already dead.
As the silence stretched, Taehrn’s face darkened. “We were not supposed to be seen together.” The words were biting.
Jem swallowed. “I did not ask you to conscript me.”
“And I did not ask your father to hire my former fiancée to bring you to Trel, either. Yet there it was. Two people who should never have been speaking, sharing one another’s company. Did your father think it would be funny? Did you think it would be funny?”
Bring me to Trel? Jem wondered. Did Taehrn think that Jem was supposed to be going to Trel? Why would he think that?
“My father…” Jem began, trying to think of something that would not reveal how ignorant he was.
“Is playing games with my reputation!” Taehrn’s words were a hiss. He paced away from the entrance and to his desk, intentionally brushing into Jem as he passed, his hand still upon his sword hilt. “And with yours. Are you aware that Trin is the sister of my wife? Are you aware what sharing stories with her could do to the both of us?”
Jem frowned. “I didn’t tell Trin anything.”
“If I am ruined, your father is ruined too. You realize that, don’t you, boy?”
“I’m not sure what I could have done to-”
“You were told to report to Godahn without revealing who you were. Not your name. Not your heritage. Not your past. Next I hear, you’re drunk and spilling all to Bell Cobbren. Telling stories that are better left forgotten. For my sake and for yours. Do you think that was a smart idea?”
Jem was gaping. Report to Godahn? Why would he have been going to the Magistrate? Why would Taehrn believe that? Gods, could his father have been planning something?
Jem fumbled over his tongue as his mind competed, half looking for answers, half looking for a decent excuse. “I… I didn’t tell Bell anything that wasn’t common knowledge.” Jem frowned. He had no idea why he was justifying himself to a man like Taehrn. He had no reason to, no reason to give a damn about Taehrn’s approval, but somehow that tone and that face together, put in Jem the feeling that he was a little boy again. A little boy whose father was about to die if he didn’t do as he was told and sign the letter that would end his uncle’s life.
“You should not have said anything at all.”
“I-”
“Stop,” Taehrn growled. “Do not say a word. This is not a thing we should discuss.” He pointed to the lantern over the exit. “Not even in the safety of that candle. It is clear to me that your father and Godahn were wrong. You are not ready to live a cultured life in Trel. You’re not smart enough to keep your mouth shut. Do you even understand what you’ve risked? What talking could do to me? What it could do to you?”
“You’ll kill me, I imagine,” Jem said. He couldn’t stop himself. He’d spent the last five years thinking up all the things he’d eventually say to Taehrn if he ever saw him again, and although he knew that it was foolish, he just couldn’t keep them from bubbling to the surface. He wanted Taehrn dead.
Taehrn frowned, his lips pursing in a mix of anger and confusion. “This is not about life and death, Jem. You know that already. This is about keeping those we love from ruin. Did you say anything to Trin? Do you know what would happen to her if she learned such things of me? What might have happened to her family? The merchant families are not well loved in Trel. Since her father’s death it has taken all my authority to
keep the vultures from picking them apart. A single blemish upon my name could ruin Trin’s family completely.”
Jem blinked. There were certainly things he could say about Taehrn that would ruin the man’s life. There were definitely things Jem could say to ruin Taehrn completely… but he hadn’t said any of those things. “My… my words could have hurt Trin?” All he’d said were things most already knew. Gods, he’d lied about much of it.
Taehrn scoffed. “She is my family. Anything that might hurt me, will hurt her, Jem. It hurts all of us. Is that clear?”
“I…” Taehrn was right, wasn’t he? Anything that tarnished Taehrn, would come back to Trin. Any action Jem took against Taehrn, would inevitably harm her. He’d been thinking of the best way to be rid of him… all Jem had come up with so far was that he should kill Taehrn, but… but what would that do to Trin? “Yes,” Jem said. “Yes, it’s clear.”
“Good.” With the one word, all anger vanished from Taehrn’s features. His hand dropped to his side, releasing the hilt of his sword. “Well then, Jem, with all that settled we can proceed to our real business. This wasn’t what I’d planned, to bring you here along with me, but I think it is the wiser course, don’t you agree? Sending you to scribe for Godahn is well and good if you want to learn the law, but if you want to be a man worthy of a bride like the deacon’s daughter, here in the field is the place to be. Besides, between you and I, I’m a better teacher than Godahn.” His voice was calm, sounding overly sweet, a shocking and almost psychotic difference from the anger of only moments before.
Jem had to force himself to keep from gaping. Bride? A deacon’s daughter? “You… want to be my teacher?” Jem asked.
Taehrn gave him a curious look. “Of course… did Indaht tell you nothing?”
“I…” Jem frowned. Should he tell the truth? That he had no idea why Taehrn thought Jem should be here? That he’d never heard anything about being sent to Magistrate Godahn, and certainly nothing about any marriage.
“There is no need for hesitation,” Taehrn said.
Jem scrambled to recall the days leading up to Indaht’s death. He wasn’t certain what his father was supposed to have told him. They hadn’t spoken much in the months before the rape, and very little of Taehrn. But… but there had been those letters from Lissahn and the Magistrate. Jem was at a loss as to what Taehrn might think he knew. “I know that my father received some letters, but… he didn’t share their contents with me.”
Taehrn shook his head, an amused smile creeping onto his lips. “Well, that’s just like your father, always trying to keep things to himself. I’m always telling him that he must learn to rely on his friends more, but it’s almost like the man doesn’t trust me, and after all I’ve done for him.” Taehrn sighed, his face looking contemplative, but friendly. “But that is life. It sounds as if the story he has given you will suffice for now, however. The son of a scribe whose father has recently passed. You should not have said anything to Bell, but so long as no one starts asking questions about the supposed scribe at Liv, it should hold up to scrutiny. At the least, the part about your father being dead will keep people from asking too many questions. I will give your father that at least. It appears that he knows to downplay his importance in this until we are ready for him.”
So that was it. Taehrn believed that Indaht still lived, and apparently, they had been planning something, something that involved Jem. “His importance in what exactly?” Jem asked.
“In his return, of course. Surely, he must have told you of your wedding day, at least?”
“I…” Indaht had intended to wed him off? But… but Indaht had always been supportive of Jem’s love for Elyse. Was that why he’d done what he had? To… convince Jem not to love her? Gods, what if there had been no rape?
Taehrn chuckled. “So, he’s told you nothing, then. Well, then, let me be the one to break the good news. Congratulations, you’re engaged. No need to thank me.” Taehrn grinned as he strolled to his desk. Shifting aside a leather-bound letter case, he sat on the tabletop, looking down at Jem.
“Wh-why?” Jem said. It was the best question he could manage.
Taehrn smiled, the expression seeming more conniving than friendly. “Let me show you something, my boy.”
Taehrn turned to the file case and began sifting through its contents. Finding what he wanted, Taehrn pulled out a very official looking parchment. He scanned the document briefly before handing it to Jem.
“Let’s call this your first official assignment as my scribe,” Taehrn said. “Please, read it aloud.”
Jem stared blankly at the page, his thoughts barely able to keep up. After several seconds of bitter and awkward silence, Jem accepted the paper. The parchment was half covered by the High Cleric’s official seal – the same symbol that adorned every Trellish banner; the six circles made distinct by imprinted rings and the seventh implied by the edges of the other six. Jem glanced at the words before reading. The letters were blocky and the serifs short and rigid, written by a conservative hand. There was a surprising lack of stylistic flourishes compared to most. The letters his father received from Lissahn and Godahn had always had flamboyant typeface. At the top it read, ‘Note of Execution.’
Jem read the note aloud.
“I, Ivan Medahn, on the authority of the High Cleric of Trel, the First Magistrate of the Order of Just, and the Grand Legionnaire, hereby grant punitive power to Second Legionnaire Taehrn Andren regarding the to be mentioned crimes of one Indaht Trask. The aforementioned Taehrn Andren has, with the investigative authority of the above tribunal, found Deacon Indaht Trask guilty of the following crimes: Conspiracy to defraud the treasury, conspiracy to defraud the priesthood, theft of Legion property, theft of priesthood property, mistreatment of priestly goods, mistreatment of Legion resources, mistreatment of Legion troops, conspiracy to incite revolt, conspiracy to assassinate the High Cleric, and abuse of punitive powers in regards to the human capital belonging to the god Just.”
Jem snarled at the final line then continued reading.
“In reviewing the evidence provided by the Second Legionnaire, this Holy Tribunal has voted in the following ways: One vote for execution by Grand Legionnaire Cyleste Kantren, the mortal arm of Just. One vote for execution by First Magistrate Marcus Godahn, the mortal resolve of Just. One vote of,”
Jem stopped and scowled. When he continued, he read in disbelief.
“‘I wasn’t listening, you do it for me, Ivan.’ by the High Cleric of Trel, mortal voice of Just. And summarily, one vote for execution by Steward Ivan Medahn, mortal voice of the mortal voice of Just.
“With three votes in favor of execution, this Tribunal agrees with the Second Legionnaire’s assessment and finds Deacon Indaht Trask guilty on all counts. He is hereby sentenced to death, to be enacted by the Second Legionnaire. In light of this sentence, the Tribunal moves to dissolve the Deaconship of Liv, stripping all title and lands from the convict.”
Jem paused at the next line. It was in a slightly different color of ink, wedged into the natural spacing between two paragraphs, seemingly written much later than the rest of the document:
“Addendum: all lands and monies confiscated under this order are to be held by the priesthood until the marriage of his firstborn son, Jem Trask, whose signed testimony as to his father’s guilt and identity has been vital to our investigation.”
Jem scowled. Someone, likely Taehrn or Magistrate Godahn, had surely gone to a lot of effort to get that part wedged in there. So, this was why they needed Jem.
“Let the gods favor the decision of their Mortal Will and may they have mercy on the souls of the deacon’s victims.” The bottom of the page was signed by five signatures, each with a separate seal pressed beneath. The last signature was Taehrn’s.
All breath was caught in Jem’s chest. When he lifted his gaze from the parchment he found Taehrn’s eyes waiting for him. Jem’s mind was as absent of thought as his mouth was for words. Taehrn spoke for him.
> “You see it then, yes? A wedding there shall be, after which, you shall eventually become the Deacon of the North. With it will come enough power and money that we can bring your father out of hiding, but we must tie up a few loose ends before we are ready for him. For now, your part is simple. The warrant you hold has dissolved the office of Deacon of the North, which is why you shall have to wed the daughter of the Deacon Lissahn. With the resources provided to you upon the date of your marriage, and the added legitimacy of the Lissahn family intermingled with your own, it should be a simple task to have the office reinstated, especially once Godahn has become High Cleric.”
A chill gripped Jem’s flesh. “And… and what’s my father’s part in this?” They still believed that Indaht lived. Gods, what would they do when they found out that Jem had killed him?
“Well, when we are ready to oppose the other deacons and reinstate the Writ, he shall be vital in rallying our forces. We do not expect a full-scale war, not once Godahn has been raised to High Cleric and myself to the station of Grand Legionnaire, but in the event things go badly, your father will be our key to rallying the South. Despite his… indiscretions, your father is still well-loved in the South, especially in Gable. They still regard him as the hero of the Gableman’s Riots for his part in deposing the Tyrant of Ternobahl, and given a choice between their deacons and Indaht, we are confident that the people of the South will choose him.” Taehrn glared at him. “This does, of course, all assume that you can keep your butchering mouth shut.”
Jem paled.
Taehrn seemed not to notice as he put out a hand to take the page. “May I?” he asked. Jem let go and Taehrn placed it on the table.
“You see, Jem, our only problem, as you’ve likely surmised, is the High Cleric and the current Grand Legionnaire. Once they have been dealt with it should be a simple process, and this war has given us the perfect opportunity; however, the next few months shall be crucial. Godahn has hired a Gelliner assassin, the same man that made those candles, in fact, to deal with the Grand. It will be our task to make certain that man succeeds, and that the Legion has a sturdy footing in the aftermath. Do you understand?”
Death's Merchant: Common Among Gods - Book One Page 29