Death's Merchant: Common Among Gods - Book One

by Justan Henner

  The answer seemed too perfect. Surely, Bell must have chosen sides… Surely, he was just pretending to be friends with one or the other. If Bell was a good person, how could he not see what Taehrn was?

  “Taehrn’s still in love with her,” Jem stated.

  Bell studied him for a moment and then gave a single, slow nod. “I think so, yes. I think he’s always loved her.”

  “What did he do?”

  Bell looked thoughtful for a moment. “I wish I knew, Jem. Taehrn won’t speak of it, and frankly, I’m afraid to ask Trin.” He chuckled, short and soft.

  Jem’s nerves were grinding. “But… but if Taehrn won’t speak of it, how can you trust him? He had to have done something awful to her.”

  “Trust Taehrn? Well… I guess I’ve just never thought of it in those terms. I do trust Taehrn, but… Trin’s a stubborn woman. She can hold a grudge like no one else I’ve known. I’m not sure there had to be a ‘something’ that Taehrn did. Sometimes hatred is built out of simple disagreement rather than some pernicious act. Or maybe it’s as simple as she says. Maybe Taehrn was different than what she thought.”

  “So… he lied to her? If he lied to her, how can you still respect him?”

  Bell blinked. “I think you’ve taken Trin’s stories too far to heart, Jem. Taehrn’s not such a bad guy. You know you don’t have to choose between them. I don’t think he lied to her… I think maybe she had just built a picture of him that he couldn’t match. Taehrn just didn’t grow into her childhood fantasy, and maybe what she saw was different from what he really was. Life is like that, Jem. Often what you see and believe isn’t reality. Sometimes it’s just a fiction you’ve created in your head to cover your own failings.”

  Jem was struggling not to laugh. Bell was either completely full of shit, or a complete moron. Taehrn was a man who had threatened children, beaten the weak, and then murdered the witnesses. He couldn’t have simply failed to live up to Trin’s expectations. Taehrn must have done something awful to her.

  “But what about what Trin says?” Jem asked, offering Bell another chance, for Trin’s sake.

  “Which part?” Bell joked. “She’s said a lot over the years.”

  “About her father’s will and his estate. She says Taehrn can’t be trusted, that he’s manipulative.”

  “I’m not sure,” Bell shrugged. “I can only speak for myself. Taehrn has always been honest with me, ever since we were boys. I look up to him, Jem. I don’t have any brothers or sisters, so Taehrn was the closest thing. You know how it is when you’re young; you build friendships that are near impossible to break. I trust him, as much as I trust Trin.”

  “Even with everything Trin says? How do you believe both?”

  “I suppose I don’t,” Bell admitted. “But I don’t know what passed between them. Until I do, I won’t make judgments about either.”

  Jem frowned. Was Bell really this naïve? If so, it might be an answer to Jem’s question, but it wasn’t answer enough. He needed to know for certain if Bell was in on Taehrn’s plans to kill the Grand Legionnaire and take control of the Legion. But… it wasn’t like Jem could just come out and ask. If he did, he would either reveal the plot to an innocent man, or reveal himself as a fellow conspirator to a man who may not want the competition.

  Jem paused a moment, searching for another angle. At last, he had it. “Bell,” he started. “Did Taehrn kill Deacon Indaht Trask?”

  Bell had mentioned his time at the stockade. He had worked there around the same time that Jem’s uncle had been brought in as the supposed ‘Deacon Trask.’ Surely, Bell must have known that the man wasn’t Indaht, that it had in fact been Indaht’s brother. If he did, and if he admitted it, then Jem would know that Bell was a traitor.

  Bell blew out his cheeks as his lips curled, the air hissing through one corner. “That’s what this is about. Taehrn showed you the warrant.”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, Jem, it’s true. I was there when the deacon was brought back to Trel and I was there at the execution.”

  “You are sure who you saw was Trask?”

  Bell frowned. “Well, of course. I saw the letter Taehrn brought back with him. The one signed by Trask’s son which said that the man in custody was indeed his father. Besides, First Magistrate Godahn served with Trask during the Gableman’s Riots and he confirmed Trask’s identity. His whole squad did.”

  “And you didn’t see any reason to doubt it?” Jem shouldn’t be asking about his uncle, it was better just to let the past lie, but he needed to know how much Bell knew. If Bell was involved with Taehrn’s plotting, how far back might it go? Plus… Jem had never truly learned what had happened to his uncle. Certainly, he had heard that the ‘Deacon Indaht Trask’ had been executed… but a part of him had always wondered if Taehrn and the Magistrate had worked out another scheme to save Jem’s uncle, just as they had done for Jem’s father.

  “I… no, of course not. Why, Jem? Is there something you know about it?”

  Jem sighed. He couldn’t push any farther, not without revealing who he was. “No,” he said. “No, it was just what you said about those broken men… I remember that Trask seemed near broken when they came to take him away… You said those things about the farrier… and it’s just that…”

  “That they were the same man…” Bell said. “Shit, Jem. I’m sorry about that. I should’ve known better than to use the deacon as my example. I guess I just wasn’t thinking the other night. We were talking about broken men, and Trask was just the first example that came to mind… I should’ve known that you would have recognized the madman as Deacon Trask, and that it might upset you.”

  “So… do you think he was mad, then?”

  “I don’t know, Jem. I don’t know if Trask was mad, or just desperate. There had been talk that his brother was a farrier during the Riots, but the Magistrate and everyone else confirmed the prisoner to be Deacon Indaht… The talk was that Indaht’s brother had died in the uprising before Taehrn could make his arrest. All of us guards… well, we just thought it was kind of sad, you know… that he would try to pretend to be his dead brother in order to save his own life.”

  Jem felt sick. “And… they killed him?”

  “Of course. He was guilty.”

  There it was. Jem, Taehrn, and the First Magistrate had murdered Jem’s uncle. One of his few, remaining hopes was dead. Jem leaned out of the wagon and vomited into the grass.

  He heard Bell’s feet strike the bed as the man leapt to his feet.

  “Are you all right, Jem?”

  “Fine,” Jem lied. “I’m fine.” To prove it, he turned to face Bell, a queasy smile on his lips. A part of Jem had always hoped that Taehrn and the others would have found a way to spare his uncle, as they had done for Jem’s father. But with Taehrn and Godahn, wasn’t that always the way of things? The Deacon Indaht Trask had been needed. Jem’s uncle wasn’t.

  Bell pulled a handkerchief from a pocket and offered it to him. Jem took it then wiped his mouth.

  “Thanks. The mush,” Jem said. “I was feeling off all day and the mush didn’t go down right.”

  Bell watched him silently, his eyes staring into Jem’s before wandering to study his face. Jem didn’t try to hide anything. He was certain his face must be too scrunched by disgust to show the dishonesty. He wondered if Bell was being equally dishonest… Bell played naïve well, but how much did the soldier really know?

  “Are you sure you’re fine?”

  “I’m sure,” Jem said. “I think I’ll go get some rest.” It was disappointing. He hadn’t learned anything new about Bell. The man seemed genuine, but it was difficult to tell. Taehrn was a good liar, too.

  Bell nodded and then offered Jem a hand up. Jem took it and climbed out of the wagon. When he stepped onto the soil, he realized he still held Bell’s handkerchief.

  Jem blushed, truly ashamed that he’d let the truth of his uncle’s death overcome him while he should have been focused on Bell’s guilt. He off
ered the kerchief to Bell. “Sorry, I’ll clean it before the march and return it to you.”

  “Keep it,” Bell said. “I’m afraid the squad and I will be gone before first light.”

  “What about Trin and me?”

  Bell climbed out after him. Together, they walked toward the fire.

  “You’re staying, but we should only be gone about a week. Me and the others will be accompanying the Grand Legionnaire to Derlin Keep. We’ll see each other then.”

  Jem grunted then nodded to his tent. If Bell was in league with Taehrn, then the Grand Legionnaire was inviting a viper into her bed. “Thanks again, Bell. If you’re gone before I wake, I’ll see you in a week. Best of luck.”

  “Thanks. Keep an eye on Trin for me, would you?”

  “Sure,” Jem said absently.

  “Oh, Jem.” Bell stopped. Fishing in his satchel, the legionnaire retrieved a handful of ink vials. “I’ve been meaning to give these to you. You left them on the table at the inn the other night.”

  Jem fingered the label on the purple jar. “Keep them,” Jem said. “I have plenty.” He thought of the inks he’d seen burst the night of his father’s death. “Just keep them away from the dinner fire, they make quite a mess when they explode.”

  Jem set off for his tent. It sounded as though Bell would be gone for a while, which was good because it would buy Jem some time. He hadn’t gotten the answer he’d wanted, hadn’t gotten the assurance that Bell was innocent, but the time apart might give him the opportunity to think up some other way to measure Bell’s character. If he couldn’t, then he wasn’t sure what he’d do. If he killed Taehrn, would it do any good if there was no one better to take the reins? Yes, he thought, despite his desire to appease Trin. Killing Taehrn was better, because there was always the first option: destroy the Legion completely.

  Though he tried to hold it in, Jem felt horrible. He would not have signed the testimony condemning his uncle if Taehrn had not forced him… but that didn’t make it right.

  In the morning, Jem woke before dawn, calm and empty. Bell and the others were gone and the fire was cold. Unstopping a bottle of ink, he poured it into the pit and stirred the coals with his hands.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Bell glanced at the ink bottles, shrugged, and returned them to his satchel. He wished there was more he could do for Jem, but he feared the boy would have to face his demons alone. The best Bell could offer was advice and hope it helped him. But scars like those… what do you do for that? It’s not like I can tell him to let the memories go. What would I say if someone told me to ignore my childhood? It doesn’t seem like something that can be ignored.

  He would have to think on it. He was certain there must be something he could do for Jem, but he had no idea what. The Grand had asked that Bell accompany her to Derlin, and Bell had accepted, but he wasn’t willing to shift the whole burden onto Trin while he was gone. At least, not without using that time to think about the issue. The problem was, he wasn’t quite certain that Trin didn’t need some looking after herself. She had brushed him off earlier, and because of that, he was sure she wasn’t doing as well as she had intimated.

  His gaze found her by the fire, the light of it shining across her face in the chaotic dance so common to fire. With a bottle in her left hand – oh gods, who gave her that – and a bowl of mush in the right, she looked cheerful – perhaps in spite of herself.

  Adjusting his hand on his sword hilt, he took a resigned breath and walked to the dinner fire. No one greeted his arrival as they normally did. Aside from Perval and Kenneth whispering to one side, the others were silent. Tel’s face was buried in her bowl, her eyes a little too focused on the bland mix of grain and water that Skibs called high-class cuisine.

  “Something wrong?” Bell asked.

  Acklin started. Trin laughed. Perval and Kenneth glared.

  “So yes, then,” Bell sighed. “Would anyone like to tell me what?”

  “An argument over the prayer,” Rise said. “It’s settled.” She nodded to the open space next to her as she reached for a bowl. “Hungry, Bell?”

  “No,” Bell said. “Thank you though.”

  He let his gaze wander from person to person. Only Bern seemed relaxed, resting against his travel pack with his hands warming near the fire and an empty bowl at his feet. Bell wished they would be more forthcoming about what had happened, but he trusted Rise’s judgment. If she didn’t think it important enough to tell him, he’d let it go. Bell removed his belt and sheath then sat. Cross-legged, he let the blade rest in his lap.

  “Trin,” Rise said, “you were telling a story.”

  “Oh,” Trin nodded agreement, her scotch sloshing with the enthused flick of her wrist.

  “Hold on,” Skibs said. “What’d the Grand have ter say?”

  Bell shrugged. With no belt to cinch its length, his shoulders strained against his tabard, the tail of it pinned tight beneath him. He shifted his seat to let the fabric free.

  “Nothing serious. She plans to ride ahead tomorrow so that she can meet with the main force at Derlin Keep. She has asked us to ride with her. We leave in the morning.”

  “All of us?” Trin asked, though her tone seemed mocking.

  “No. You and Jem are to stay and attend to your duties here, but it shouldn’t be more than a week before we rendezvous at Derlin.”

  “Why us?” Tel asked. “Why now? The others leaving with the Grand have known for a week.”

  “Didn’t say. I suspect we’ll act as her forward scout.”

  Skibs scraped the last of the mush from his bowl, chewing his food as he spoke. “And what happens when we get ter Derlin?”

  “We wait while the Grand prepares us for the march to Lock.”

  “Hrm,” Skibs hummed. “Sounds easy enough.”

  “If you can trust that woman,” Kenneth said.

  Bell frowned at him.

  “You are too young to have served with her against the Tyrant of Ternobahl. She was an incompetent then and she is an incompetent now. She should have been executed for the deaths her brash choices caused. Instead, she is raised to Grand.”

  “Ternobahl were a long time ago,” Skibs said. Despite his words, his cheeks were tinged red with embarrassment.

  “Yes. You would say that, Gableman.”

  “Don’t yer be lumping me and me family in with the Rioters. We fought against them as hard as yer.”

  “You do not-”

  Perval tugged Kenneth’s sleeve then whispered a few words into his friend’s ear. Kenneth’s face paled.

  “I… I am sorry, Skibs. I should not have spoken. I did not know…”

  Skibs didn’t hesitate, if anything, the quickness with which he accepted the apology belied the sentiment. “Yawh, well there’s no trouble in it. Not the first time a northerner’s made assumptions.”

  “Your mother is a noble soul.”

  Skibs blushed, his shoulders slumping. “Yawh, that’s what they tell me.”

  Acklin’s gaze shot from man to man, his scowl mixing with a confused look. Skibs wasn’t big on talking about his mother and her deaconship. Bell suspected it was because the man didn’t want her stature to influence the way others saw him. An awkward silence followed.

  “Trin,” Rise said. “Your story.”

  Trin lowered the bottle of scotch from her lips. “Right. Now, where was I?”

  Rise glanced at Bell with an amused smile. “Bell and Taehrn had just made their escape.”

  Oh, not this one, Bell thought. Please no.

  “Ah right. So, we make the bet, and I go up to the door, but as I said, Bell and Taehrn are too scared to go any farther than the fence.”

  Damn.

  Her features were animated, the bottle waving with the rhythm of her lips, her eyes so wide and beautiful he could swear the fire not only shined off them, but lived there behind the iris. If he hadn’t known how she really felt, he would have believed her enthusiasm genuine. But he did know, and he knew she
wouldn’t be telling this story if she were truly coping.

  “Course, Bell being only six at the time, I can’t say I blame him for being a coward, them chubby little cheeks of his. Did I ever tell all of ya that Bell was a little fatty? Grew out of it pretty quick, but at six, the boy was wider than Old Nance. Taehrn though, that craven had no excuse, was older than me in fact, the dick. Anyways, I’m standin’ there by myself trying to convince them to come up beside me, when Bell starts sobbing.”

  “I was not sobbing,” Bell said.

  “Fine, more of a whine then. Whenever Bell gets scared he makes this high-pitched screeching sound like a damned bird protecting its nest – I’m sure you’ve heard it, or will in the months ahead. Sound is half humming and half terror, and it’s the worst sound I’ve ever heard, but I wasn’t going to let his whining stop me, so I knocked on the door anyways. Second I do, both of them turn and start running down the hill. How they got past the guards again is beyond me, but I suspect they was runnin’ so fast the guards didn’t even bother. For a little porker, Bell could run faster than both of us. Suffice it to say, I won the bet.”

  Bell scoffed. “We both know that you cheated.”

  “I sure did,” Trin said proudly. “Had seen the old woman make her way from her little cottage to the chapel a hundred times, and never believed she was a witch, just a priest that had lived at the university for so long the priesthood had built her her own shack on the hill opposite the observatory.”

  That’s what she said now, but Bell knew she didn’t believe it. To this day, Trin believed the witch had not only been real, but was in fact, a god named Fate. Despite there being almost no mention – aside from the single page Trin kept at her breast, and a brief passage in Just’s Fables – of this woman as a god in the pantheon, Trin was certain the woman had cursed her.

  “It’s that house we’re talking about?” Rise asked. “I remember that old woman. We used to call her the Cleric’s favorite whore.”

  “His favorite whore?” Bern asked. “Why his favorite whore?”