Death's Merchant: Common Among Gods - Book One

by Justan Henner

  Bern saluted and left through the alley. The footsteps from upstairs were gone; the footmen must have left out the front while Bell’s squad stormed the alley.

  The Grand eyed him slowly, her face an impenetrable calm. Finally, she spoke, but her words surprised him. “My previous orders stand. Do you have a request for reassignment, or shall I place you back with the scouts?”

  Bell’s mouth gaped. “But…” he managed. “What about Acklin?”

  “He will face trial, but for now, I must focus my efforts on taking the city.”

  “I do not understand. We served admirably. I saved your life, why would you reassign us?”

  “And I am thankful, but I cannot have a guard I do not trust, and this business with Scout Perval has convinced me that I cannot trust your judgment.”

  “My judgment? What does that have to do with this? I had nothing to do with Acklin’s confusion.”

  “No, but that event has heightened my resolve. You doubted the morality of our cause and I cannot allow that. I cannot trust you if you might suddenly decide the Lockish have the moral high ground. Your doubt puts me at risk, as well as your soldiers.”

  Bell was awestruck. “You see my doubt as a weakness?” he asked. “Then lift it. Give me a reason to stand at your side.”

  “It is not my duty to prove my loyalty to you, Legionnaire. I am your superior. If you wish to serve, then you must prove yourself to me.”

  “How?”

  “Swear fealty to Just.”

  “No,” he said firmly.

  “No?”

  “No,” Bell said. His decision from earlier held strong. He did not have Jem’s trauma, so he had no reason to whine or mope; he would be decisive. He had finally made a decision and now, he refused to bend from it. His doubt was not a weakness. “I will not swear to Just. Nor will I swear to any god.”

  “Then you are a heathen,” the Grand said. “And I will not have you at my side.”

  “I am not a heathen. My decision not to choose a patron is not a failure. Nor is it a lack of faith. It is self-awareness, pure and simple. I shall represent myself and I refuse to give that right to any other.”

  Her face darkened, sinking into a frown. “Spoken like a true rogue,” she spat. “Your decision has convinced me. Your squad is reassigned to the Footmen, First Rank, Legionnaire. You shall stand in for their losses.”

  Bell could feel nothing but the tingle of shock as realization sank in. “Perval was right,” he said without thinking. “You’re trying to kill us.”

  “I said we had something in common, did I not?”

  “You cannot do this. Bern… Tel… they are scouts. They are not trained for the vanguard.”

  “You did not complain when I assigned them to my guard.”

  “Because I thought they would be safest at your side, and I could not refuse them the honor.”

  “Ha!” the Grand laughed. “Do not mock my intelligence. I know what you are and why you are here, Bell Cobbren. Do not think that I cannot see through your ruse. If anything, I should have done this before, but I thought perhaps you were a decent person, an honorable person, but Perval’s actions have made it all the clearer.”

  “Perval? I don’t understand. What did he do?”

  “Do not play coy, Bell Cobbren. I am not a fool. Gather your squad, including this Tel, and report to Footman Halls or I will round all of you up as deserters.”

  Bell shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I don’t know what you think I’ve done, or what you think I’m going to do, but if you’re going to kill me, kill me now. Do not put the others in danger because of my supposed crimes.”

  “No,” she said. “I am the Mortal Arm of Justice. Even if I had proof of your treason, I would not kill a fellow legionnaire; it is against our code and the Executioner is not here to do it for me. Just be glad that I offer you the chance to die by the sword.”

  “I…” Bell tried. “Gods, you’re mad.”

  The Grand chuckled. “I am not insane, Bell Cobbren. Quite the opposite. Finally, I have put all of the pieces together. Should your soul return to your master’s hearth, tell Lu that he has backed the wrong horse. Taehrn’s coup shall not succeed.” The Grand spat at his feet then left without another word.

  For several minutes, Bell stood alone with the corpses. The tip of his blade rested on blood-stained floorboards. Something terrible had just happened, but he didn’t understand what. Taehrn’s coup? But… Taehrn? Gods, what have I gotten myself into? This is all wrong. Just help me, Bell prayed, but he feared that his plea fell upon the ears of his accuser.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Loy pulled the lattice off the trough and retched into the coals. Nikom’s Blessing, he swore. Kindrel was right. I don’t know anything. The coals sizzled as he retched again. The acrid smell of vomit wafted to his nose, only made worse by the heat. From ash and acid, his throat burned. His lungs felt heavy and patchy. He could have killed me, Loy panicked. He was stronger than I could have imagined. He would have killed me.

  And that’s what she wanted. This is exactly what Kindrel wanted. She wanted me to suffer, that vile bitch. She kept me ignorant to get me killed. That is why she refused to help me. She planned this from the beginning. It had all been lies, a trick to throw him off her trail. Scryer Fate was not his enemy. She had given him all the information he had wanted and needed. She had told him how he could become a god, but Kindrel, she had set him up for failure. But Father had kept him ignorant as well; he was as culpable as his niece. I need to find Just. Only then will I be free of them.

  But where does that leave Quill? Was he part of the ruse, or did he truly wish to help me? Loy leaned back from the coals, and used the trough to ease himself to the ground. For a moment, Loy wished that he had waited, wished that he had given Quill the opportunity to prove himself noble. And then he remembered who Quill was. He is part of her. His offer of help was just a trick to soothe my mind and distract me from his wife’s schemes.

  Loy pounded his chest, trying to clear his lungs, to make them feel light again. He bent over in a fit of coughing and almost vomited for the third time. He knew it was not likely. Kindrel was a liar, and a fiend, but she could not have predicted this. She had willfully kept him ignorant, but this could not have been her intention. Deep within, he knew he could not hold her responsible for what had happened. But this evening’s events had unsettled him. She had kept him ignorant. At the least, she was guilty of that.

  The coughing worsened, his throat stinging with every convulsion. It felt as if it might tear open, like the chests of the dead men beneath Cyril Clerahl’s manor. He could not get the image from his mind. Loy had never seen death. Certainly, he had heard that mortals often died, but never godkind. All those men and the woman beneath the manor had been godkind. He had felt their auras drain away, felt their souls leave their bodies. Loy cursed himself for ever thinking of killing Clerahl, realizing that until now, he had never truly understood the sheer depravity of murder. Their aspects had been taken away; the very essence of their being. This was why murder was forbidden in Lendal. Father Order is right. No killing. Not ever. Not even Kindrel.

  Loy let his eyes wander the street; a sign at the end of the lane read Winter District. The buildings here were like those he had seen upon entering the city, carved of wood, and inscribed with glyphs and symbols of all shapes and sorts. Icicle patterns were etched into the wooden rain gutters and white snowflakes were painted on the window shutters. To ease his mind, he counted the different patterns. There was snow in Lendal, and he remembered many happy winters spent in the estate with Spade. He hoped she fared better than he. The world was not as peaceful as their home.

  His eyes drifting up into the sky, Loy was convinced he must be seeing things; the imprint of burning haystacks shimmered on the surface of the moon.

  Loy rubbed his eyes and then forced himself to his feet. He stood there for several moments, uncertain of what he shoul
d do. He no longer felt safe all alone in a foreign city. Nikom’s Blessing, why did I leave Quill behind?

  There were more of these mages out there – these bastard godkind – and they might be as strong as Cyril. Loy needed to become a god, only then would he have the power to brush aside such threats.

  Loy cleared his mind and focused his perquisition. He dared not disable his sight, for fear of the visions that might wait in the darkness. He chose the strongest signal he could, somewhere in the center of the city, and set off to find it.

  “The Legion rely on sheer force of numbers,” Tyvan said. “Their tactics are outdated at best, based upon the leadership of a so-called god of justice who lived centuries ago. Their army is weak and undisciplined, comprised mostly of politically appointed priests and conscripted criminals, and of the few trained soldiers they do have, none have seen war. This Grand Legionnaire, the leader of their army, has served in only a handful of battles and all of them against ragtag armies of Gableman peasantry. They are inexperienced fools and do not know what they are doing. This is a politically driven holy war, ordered by a fool who knows more of buttons and superstitious witchery than he does warfare.”

  “You underestimate them,” the queen said. “It must surely be a distraction.”

  Tyvan flicked his tongue between his lips. His pale white nose contrasted against the red heat amassing in his cheeks. “A distraction? How could their incompetence be a distraction? They do not build siege engines, they have not established a real blockade, their reinforcements lag behind as if they do not wish to arrive. There is no sense in their actions. The only explanation is ignorance and incompetence.”

  “Unless it is a ruse,” the queen said between yawns, but as she leaned over the coal filled brazier and wrung her hands over the fire, her actions belied the nonchalance of her words. The night held a distinct chill, even here in the palace, and an odd emotion came with the cold, something Null couldn’t name, but an emotion that whispered of every sad memory, of every feeling of self-loathing, and every moment she had ever felt worthless.

  “Then what are their motives? They cannot take the city without first taking the walls. They must lay siege eventually. They have no other options.”

  The king listened to his cousin’s words without comment. He watched his mother with a look of concern.

  “Except for subterfuge.”

  “My agents have scoured the city. There are no spies within its walls.”

  “He is right, Queen,” Beda said. She sat hunched in a chair far too short for her, but she hadn’t complained. She never complained. Null eyed her cautiously. She could not determine the woman’s intent. But for those moments she stood at Tyvan’s side, she seemed polite, and yet, Null could be none too certain. At his side, she seemed a lapdog.

  “Would you like to explain why?” the queen asked.

  “The only unrest we’ve had is from the Vandu and it is minor. A few fights and nothing more.”

  “And this Priest Twil, what of him?”

  Beda’s lips pursed. Beneath a furrowed brow, her gaze flicked from Tyvan then back to the queen.

  “The courtesan has been seen to,” Tyvan said. His tone did not carry the confidence of his words. Instead, he sounded snippy, as if it were a touchy subject.

  “In what way?” Tepa asked.

  “The consul and his men are keeping a close eye on him. I have ordered his death.”

  “That is good,” the queen said. “It soothes me to know that you did not miss such an obvious spy.”

  Tyvan’s nostrils flared. He said nothing.

  “Still,” Queen Tepa murmured, “it is odd that they have accepted him as one of their own. Especially with a name like Twil.”

  There was a knock at the door. A guardsman admitted herself. “Commander Stills,” she said.

  “Aye?” Beda asked, standing.

  “There have been reports of shouting and chanting from the western plaza.”

  “That is no different from any night,” Tyvan mocked.

  The guardsman blushed. “Commander, there have been sounds of fighting, also.”

  Beda frowned.

  “More Vandu squabbles, no doubt,” Tyvan said. “Send a patrol and leave it be.”

  Beda shook her head and headed for the door. “Captain Davahlia should be leaving soon to relieve the bowmen on the walls. I will send a patrol with him to make sure everything is all right.” She stopped and gave Tyvan a disapproving look. “This might be the result of today’s deaths.”

  Tyvan rolled his eyes.

  The king finally spoke. “See to it, Beda. And make sure they are aware of the potential danger.”

  “My King?” Beda frowned.

  Erin’s voice was soft. “I am gripped by unease this night. It is probably all this talk of spies and subversion that has placed me on my toes, but instill in Captain Davahlia that this patrol should not be taken as routine.”

  “Of course, my King,” Beda said. “I will send a double compliment.” She and the guardsman left.

  The king turned his uneasy scowl to the spymaster. “I trust this is not your doing, Tyvan? The man the Vandu disemboweled today was a noted Atheist. This had better not be reciprocity for his death.”

  Tyvan smiled. “I would not think of it, cousin.”

  “I do not wish for the guardsmen to come upon a Chapter House mob. If this is your doing, you had better send messages for it to stop immediately.”

  “The reciprocity, as you say, was scheduled for tomorrow evening.”

  The king growled and Tyvan’s smile vanished.

  “But just in case,” he continued, “I shall send word to the Chapter Houses.”

  “See to it,” Erin hissed.

  Tyvan paled, bowed, and left before the king could chide him further. Null had never seen Tyvan outstep the king’s patience before and she rather enjoyed it.

  “Null.”

  Erin’s voice recalled her attention.

  His disgruntled, worry-filled stare had returned. She expected him to dismiss her, so that he could speak with the queen alone, but the king surprised her. “Do you have a moment?”

  She glanced at the queen, but Tepa was focused on her hands above the fire. She stared into emptiness, her teeth gnawing at her lower lip. Null looked back to Erin. His face had softened. The worry remained, but it had drifted from strained unease to an empathetic frown. His eyes darted in their sockets, scrolling across Null’s face. Lock, she swore, is he worried for me?

  “Of course, my King,” Null said.

  The queen stood. “I shall let you two be. Null, when you are finished I shall be in Mycah’s study.”

  Null nodded and clutched the folded note in her pocket. She needed to speak with Queen Tepa, but did not want to, so had been dreading their meeting all evening. She regretted not bringing up her concerns earlier, when they had been alone in the library, but she hadn’t had the nerve. Instead, she had copied the note behind the queen’s back. Although the little piece of paper held nothing of import to any but herself, Null felt as though she had committed some act of betrayal. She had intended to study the passage alone, but it could not answer the questions that bothered her. She needed answers only the queen could provide.

  The door clicked shut behind Tepa, and Null jumped. She had lost herself in thought, and in front of the king, no less. Fool, she chided, but when her attention returned to Erin, he simply watched her, a smile on his lips. Her lungs fluttered. She had never had a private audience with the king. If not Tyvan, the queen, or Beda, there had always been a guardsman nearby. She had never thought that a mage like herself would be trusted to be alone with him.

  “Are you all right, Null? You seem tense.”

  Null drew a calming breath. “I am fine, my King.”

  “I am glad,” Erin smiled. “I had worried the Legion’s presence would make things more difficult for you.”

  “No, my King, I have been fine. If anything, things have been easier since I returne
d to the city.”

  “Yes,” the king laughed. “I expected more rumors that you were a Trellish spy, but it seems the Vandu have captured all of Tyvan’s attention. That is one benefit from all of this nonsense.”

  Benefit? Null wondered.

  The king continued. His smile took on a sad twist. “Do you miss him?”

  “I’m sorry, King, who do you mean?”

  Erin frowned. “Mycah of course. He has been with us a long time. It is a different place without him around. I just want to make sure you are doing okay with him gone.”

  “It is… it is lonelier without him,” Null admitted. “But Queen Tepa keeps me busy.”

  “I am sorry that you are lonely, Null. If you’d like, I could make some time for you during the week.” He placed a hand on hers and smiled.

  Null swallowed. “You and I, alone?” she asked. She immediately regretted her question; she sounded a fool. They were alone now.

  “Of course,” Erin said. He lifted a hand and ran it through his hair. He shook his head and his cheeks hollowed. He must have noticed her expression, for his voice became somber. “With him gone,” he mumbled, “I thought I should… I am sorry, Null.” His head drooped. “After the way I am forced to behave…” His words trailed away. He swallowed, and again, shook his head. “I should not expect you to see me the way I see you.”

  Another knock at the door interrupted him. The king’s manservant stepped into the room. He glared at Null; surprise written clear on his face. “My King,” he said, “a messenger has arrived from the Hegemon. He awaits you in the throne hall.”

  The king grimaced. “Thank you, Mr. Goodall. Tell him that I will be there shortly.”

  Null didn’t move. She still mulled over the king’s words. She had never seen that much emotion from him. He had always seemed distant and indifferent toward her. But… he had seemed… as if he cared.

  And maybe a little too much…

  As the door closed, King Erin stood and motioned to the exit. “Thank you for your time, Null.”