War horns sounded behind Null, a low somber thrum that echoed in the courtyard. In answer, the Vandu – old, sick, woman, and child, every Vandu in the courtyard – unleashed a menacing cry. A swirl of green and white caught Null’s eye. Of the Vandu, only Priest Twil was silent, his entourage setting up an iron cauldron and sitting mats beneath an open-faced leather awning. The priest regarded her a moment before returning his attention to the awning’s progress. Null pressed her heels and set the horse toward the palace.
They hadn’t spoken since that first time, but Null had thought a lot about the courtesan’s words. If the queen knew of this holy figure Null was named after, then why not mention it? The queen had said that she’d read Teachings of a Whore in the past, but when the topic of the book’s importance had been at the forefront of their minds, the queen hadn’t mentioned that Null’s name was from the book. Was it only coincidence, or had the queen purposefully avoided the topic?
Null wanted to know the truth. If the queen knew more than she had originally let on, maybe she could explain what Priest Twil had meant. Two warnings now, one from Mycah and one from Twil. Null repeated Twil’s words. She will try to shape you into what she requires. Just as she did with Silt, just as she did with Sybil. Just as she did with me. If Null had the courage, she would ask Twil what he had meant. She didn’t know of a Silt or a Sybil, but if the priest felt he’d been manipulated, maybe he could explain by who.
Her whole world seemed to be changing. Always, Null had held skepticism for the Faith, because she was skeptical of belief. Mycah had said that truth was a choice of belief, but she didn’t want to believe that. She preferred the idea that truth was not relative, that it was factual. But that made her own beliefs suspect. The Atheists were right about the nonexistence of gods, but they were wrong about mages. The Faithful believed in myths, but she loved Mycah. She hadn’t thought Mycah’s intelligence lessened because of his faith. But if truth was not relative, then there was some error in both the Atheist’s and Mycah’s logic. And thus, there must exist some flaw in their intelligence.
Which made Null worry about her own beliefs. Mycah was a brilliant man, and even Tyvan Dahl, though cruel, seemed capable. If truth wasn’t relative, how could two intelligent men hold opposing beliefs? Knowledge. The flaw must not be in their minds, but in their experiences. One must have had knowledge the other did not. Knowledge convincing enough to sway their minds. But then, what information did Null lack? What leads me to my beliefs? And could Mycah be right, or is he lost in falsehoods painted as fact? Where is the line between truth and conviction?
Have I already crossed it?
The fear of not knowing was stronger than her fear of confronting Twil. If it came to it, she would speak with him and demand what he knew.
Null let her thoughts rest as the king and Tyvan rode into view. King Erin rode his Rorish palfrey, the one with the smoky bluish-black hide that he seemed to favor, and Tyvan followed on a horse she had never seen before, a Settish hobby like most of the spymaster’s horses. The two rode at a trot, and reached the edge of the courtyard as Null did.
“My King,” Null greeted, “the Legion follows on our heels.”
Tyvan and the king stopped to meet her as another chorus rose from the Vandu, this time all chanting “Praise be to Erin,” separately, as each pocket realized that Erin had appeared. The king bowed modestly to the Vandu before facing Null.
“Yes, Null, Tyvan has already informed me.” The lines deepened in Erin’s face as he studied the Vandu. “As good a place as any, I suppose,” he murmured. “But if the Trellish break through…”
“It will give the Vandu more reason to hold when the inevitable assault begins,” Tyvan said.
“Inevitable?” the king asked. “What if they choose to starve us out?”
“They will not. They don’t have the time. Blake and the Old Guard will be here soon enough. The Trellish will not risk the Hegemon’s forces.” Tyvan pulled the leather riding glove from his right hand and bit his thumbnail. With a tongue flashing through his lips, he spat the nail into the street.
“And if they do try?” Erin asked. “We will regret not having the Vandu harrying the Trellish supply trains. I am unconvinced that they should not have remained in the Fields.”
“My spies assure me that will not happen,” Tyvan said. “The Trellish have underestimated the rot and carried mostly grain and not enough meat. They have learned the same lesson we did years ago, and their food supply has suffered for it. If they do not attack soon, they will starve, and without their reinforcements, the New Guard will prevail.”
Tyvan bit off another nail and spat it out, this one coming perilously close to Null’s face. Tyvan smiled at her.
“And what if they move on to Baylin, or one of the other villages instead?” the king asked.
“Then they will waste their time. The Old Guard is not far away. Winter Blake will arrive far before the Legion’s own reinforcements. If the Trellish pull back to regroup, they will starve in the rot, and if they move forward without them, the Old Guard will meet them in the East. No Erin, attacking early is their best option.”
“I hope you are right, cousin.”
“I am,” Tyvan said, pulling the elbow length glove back over his arm.
“But…” Null started, lowering her eyes. “To know so much of their supplies, your spies must be within their army, so why could they not warn us that the Legion had passed us at New Luddahn?”
Tyvan’s nostrils flared. “Erin,” Tyvan said, his gaze rolling to the king. “I believe your animal needs something, I think I hear it whining.”
The king placed his hand on Tyvan’s shoulder. “She makes a good point, Tyvan. Your spies were wrong about the Legion’s location, what if they are wrong in this?”
“My spies were with the smaller force that just now reaches Derlin. They did not know of the main host’s position until the Grand Legionnaire rode ahead to join with the main force. Satisfied?”
“Yes, cousin.”
“And your bitch?” Tyvan pressed, his eyes falling on Null in a reproachful challenge.
“Leave it, Tyvan,” Erin growled.
“It may have been an Atherahnian, but at least the other was useful. I don’t understand why you keep this one around.”
“I said leave it.”
“Of course, cousin. But the point still stands. Have you ever doubted the Hegemon before? As soon as Blake arrives, he will crush this rabble. If the Trellish don’t act now, they’re finished.”
“Yes… either way, we need to be prepared.”
“Rightly so,” Tyvan nodded. “I will check to see that our defenses are ready. We can discuss the other possibilities once we’ve seen what happens here.” The spymaster started toward the wall, sneering at Null as he passed. Null ignored him, directing her attention to the king who stared at her, his expression unreadable.
“I am sorry, my King, I could not convince Sylvas Durahl to recall the Luddahners”
“I know Null, but do not blame yourself. I did not think he would change his mind.”
“Change his mind?” Null asked.
“Yes, the last few reports he has sent have been rather dire. I have already told them to return, that I have found them a better place to settle, but he has refused every time.”
“Then why did you send us?”
“I had hoped the Trellish threat would finally convince them, but it seems even that wasn’t enough.”
“He seemed intent on standing in their way. Will he do something foolish?”
The king drew a bare hand to his hair. “Given his history, I am afraid so.” Another horn blared outside the city. Sighing, Erin turned to the wall. “I wish to see this skirmish, Null, so I must leave you, but it is good to have you back.” The king rode close, dropping the hand from his brow to brush her face; a soft, warm touch. “You have grown much since I took you in. No matter Tyvan’s words, I am glad that I did.” He pulled back his hand and kicked his
horse into motion. “Mother waits in the library. She desires a word.”
“Thank you,” Null said, put off balance by the king’s admission.
The king waved acknowledgment without turning. He had always been kindly, but never fatherly and that… that had seemed almost loving. Tired, and afraid she might over think it, Null spurred her horse toward the palace.
As the stone fortifications fell away, they were replaced by homes built in the red oak and maple of the Autumn District. Here, the wood paneling was often left bare and without the carvings common in the Summer and Winter districts. Autumn was about simplicity and color, so the rounded, shake shingles, and cedar window shutters were painted in every shade of red and yellow. As it was still early, the long-troughs that lined the road’s tile sidings had not yet been lit. On her way to the palace, she passed a group of Lighters busy unhinging one of the trough’s lattice covers to refill the coal in the trough, from the pile stacked in the bed of their wagon.
Deeper in the city, the homes fell away first to shops, then to mansions and estates, each walled in by ornamental iron or stone fences. The royal palace was not the only palace in Dekahn, simply the grandest. Wooden towers and belled steeples marked the Atheist Chapter Houses; places of charity when not busied with hatemongering and propaganda.
So, not places of charity at all, Null mocked. She crossed to the other side of the street to avoid these buildings. Though she left the palace rarely, the Atheists seemed to know her features, for her resemblance could be found on the murals they painted on their Chapter Houses throughout the city. Every child knew that the Butcher devoured the Faith’s practitioners, sending his loyal familiars to collect any cultist in the city; children who played at witchcraft or praised the Mother were the Butcher’s favorite meal.
It was no surprise, that in recent years, the Butcher’s familiars had been reduced to two; a woman with long brown hair and fair skin, and a middle-aged man with a curled moustache and tiny daggers through his ears. The posters didn’t portray her face – hers replaced by that of a pig, and Mycah’s by an eared vulture – but they might as well have.
With the Legion at the gates, she had expected a mob outside the palace compound’s wall, but there were none but two guardsmen, who waved her through without a glance. As she often did, Null wondered if the two guardsmen saw the pig face in truth, or if they simply saw nothing at all when they looked at her.
Null left her horse with a stable hand. The man was one she recognized, but there were no greetings and little talk. She took her saddlebag, and left everything else. With the horse settled, she returned to the palace courtyard. Like her own quarters, the library stood separate from the main building, in a stone tower shaped like a massive grain silo. Windowless and gray, local legend held that the tower had once been exactly that, but if so, it had been insulated and furnished long since.
Stepping through the single door, Null entered into a warm, circular room, lined by a staircase which curled the outer wall. Bookcases spiraled around a central column, beginning in the crevice beneath the stairs and growing taller until at least a head above the tallest of men. As the keeper of the king’s libraries, this building was something of a home to Null, and being here relaxed her. She already knew where the queen would be so she skipped the second and third floors and went straight to the top.
She stepped into a room much the same as the first. Red silk drapes covered the walls, and tapestries hung over the drapes, all of them scenes of the Lockish countryside. The central column that ran through the other floors ended in a marble lectern. Queen Tepa sat before it, reading Teachings of a Whore, a bronze stylus in her hand and her quiver leaning against her tall stool. She had no wax tablet, but was instead using the stylus as a pointer, dragging it in straight lines across the pages of the book.
The queen did not look up until Null stood beside her. “Welcome home, girl,” Tepa said, motioning to the stools along the far wall. “Grab a chair.”
Unlike most of Dekahn, the library was lit by fluted iron braziers built into and isolated by two feet of bare, bowl-shaped stone – attesting to the building’s age. As these braziers had been built for wooden logs, they were not useful in their natural state. Instead, a paper film had been laid in each bowl, across the flutes so the coals could be filled to the top without falling through the crevices.
Null ignored the queen’s suggestion. “You have read this book.” Null had been building this courage for days, and thankfully, her voice held firm.
The queen glanced at her, confusion written plain on her face. “Yes, that is what I’m doing now.”
“No,” Null clarified. “You’ve read it in the past.”
“Not this exact copy, but yes I have. Did I not say so already?” She must have read something in Null’s face, for she added, “Is there some trouble, Null?”
The blunt innocence of the queen’s answer robbed Null’s confidence. “I… I’m sorry. I… I know that we talked about the book already, that… that you’d read it already, of course you had, you were studying it when I left, but… I was just surprised that…” Null couldn’t put the thought into proper words.
Queen Tepa wore an amused smile. “Yes, Null?”
Her eyes downcast, Null studied her hands as she regained her courage. She swallowed and nodded her head. “Yes, exactly. That’s what I’m trying to get at… Who is Entaras Null?”
The queen gave her another curious glance.
“Not who, what,” Null corrected. “What is Entaras Null?”
Rin Tepa shrugged. “Oh… you mean from Teachings of a Whore?”
“Yes, exactly. Why didn’t you mention that my name came from there?”
The Queen frowned. “Well, it didn’t, not specifically, I suppose. It is something mentioned in a few of Dydal’s books, not just this one.”
“But Entaras Null is where my name comes from, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is what I named you after. Why, girl? Why the sudden obsession?”
Null ignored the question. She felt impertinent for doing so. “But what does it mean?”
“It is a title for a priest sworn to a god of Absence, but there is no such god. To me, it represents a priest without a name or history. That is all.”
“There is a priest with the Vandu, he said that Entaras Null is a holy figure.”
The queen arched a brow. “Hmm,” she hummed. “Yes, I suppose it is. Dydal only mentions that the Whore had become obsessed with the figure, just as she had with Death, but I never thought much of it.” The queen frowned. “The Vandu have a priest?”
“Why did you name me after this figure?”
The queen scowled as Null once again sidestepped her question. When Rin Tepa spoke, she did so slowly. “You came to us without a name and without any memories before the day of your stoning. In a way, you came with nothing, and it reminded me of the figure in the book.”
“But why would you call me a priest?”
The queen flashed a dismissive wave. “In my day, mages were called priests. What bothers you, Null?”
“The priest, he said that ‘she’ would try to manipulate me and that whoever ‘she’ is had already done so to him, and to someone named Sybil, and another named Silt.”
Rin Tepa straightened on her stool. “Null,” the queen said. “What does this priest look like?”
“I do not know, he wears a hooded robe in green and white, and a mask that covers his face. The Vandu called him a courtesan.”
“Does he carry a staff, with a jay carved into the top?”
“No, not that I saw.”
Sighing, Rin Tepa’s body relaxed, but her voice, loud and filled with feigned nonchalance, did not match her body. “Then it is not as bad as I feared, but it is still odd that a courtesan would travel with the Vandu. I will need to look into this.”
“What is a courtesan, exactly?” Null had used the term herself, but wasn’t entirely certain what it meant and hadn’t the courage to ask any of the Va
ndu. In New Luddahn, everyone around her had behaved as though the meaning were common knowledge.
“Just a type of priest who worships the Whore. They are known to take Dydal’s texts very literally. I would put this priest’s words out of your mind, for now. When I have the time, I will look into it myself. For now, we have work to do.” The queen pointed over a shoulder to a lone table, stacked with books. “I’ve pulled aside all the books that mention Teachings of a Whore or Dydal. We will need to go through them all. I have gone through the books on the floor already.”
Null stared at the pile on the table and then the pile on the floor. The table held more than twenty books, all of them fat, heavy tomes. The floor held about fifty.
“So, you’ve decided that Teachings of a Whore is relevant, then?”
Queen Tepa sighed past her top lip, so the air tickled her eyebrows. “Truth be told, I still don’t know. I’ve been going through books since the day you left.”
Null’s stomach lurched. She loved books, and she loved this library, but to read so many in such a short time made it sound like a chore. Just reading the spellbook over the same timeframe had been exhausting, and she wasn’t very far, and had only read bits and pieces.
“And now?” Null asked. “Have you found anything?”
The queen shook her head. “This is my fifth time rereading it and I still do not see the relevance. Other than an ambiguous note in the front cover, it is the same as the copy I read when I visited Trel.” The queen grabbed Null’s arm, pulling her forward as she flipped the book to the first page. “See, this note here. Does it mean anything to you?”
The words were scrawled in a loose hand:
Mayor Lock,
I have done as you asked and renewed Nikom’s Blessing. Remember to keep this gift safe and within the city limits, as we discussed previously. Otherwise, you will see the same deterioration you have witnessed already, but on a larger scale. Remember this favor in the future, Atheist. I surely will.
Death's Merchant: Common Among Gods - Book One Page 46