“You are just like Mother,” Just said.
“No, you moron, I am better than your mother. I am wiser than your mother. Unlike her, I understand what it means to be Absence. I understand what it means when we say that a god of negation must come from nothing. You think I serve Fate? Oh, you blood-addled fool, I have played you all! Made you dance upon my strings, made you fight each other so that none would notice what is obvious before you! That none can create Death, that it must create itself. And thus, have I kept you all at one another’s throats!
“Who do you think it was that made you all believe that Teachings of a Whore was important? Who do you think it was that made you feel the Mother’s aura when the merchant desecrated the text? Who do you think it was that made certain you would march on Lock, that made certain Fate would be paying more attention to you and I rather than her forgotten threads like Trin Cavahl? Who do you think it was that has kept the Mother from these affairs? Kept her busy? Focused solely upon other things? It was me, and do you not see why? Because the only reason Death does not already exist, is because of fools like you! Because of the meddling of those like you, and Fate, and the Whore!”
“You…” her brother began, his voice uncertain. “You will create Death yourself.”
“No, fool, do you not see my point? I do nothing but keep each of you from interfering. Even I sit idle as events unfold… But we are so close now. You were right! The merchant is the key. She will be the one to return the aspect to the world. But whether it is you, or her, or some other fool who will become the god, it matters not, for it shall be!”
“You cannot do this!” Just snarled. “Do you not understand what you do? Do you not understand what horror you create? How can you not see that it is a mistake?”
“I make no mistake, I simply make up for yours! When you killed Death, you unleashed this mayhem. It was you that doomed the pantheon, Just, and it shall be I who repairs it! When this is over, I will have rectified your mistake. I will have ended the Call, will have freed our family from the madness and repaired the pantheon so that once more it might grow without blooders hunting down the weak before they might grow strong. I will have done only what was needed!”
“For what reason?” Just asked. “To put me in my place? Is spiting me so important?”
“Spiting you? I do this not to spite you. As I have ever said, I act to save you. From your tainted morals, from your evil deeds, from the horrific actions you take under the presumption that preventing Death is the most important thing of all, despite the expense to all else. You are Conviction, friend, not Justice! And you destroy all that is in your path!”
“I? Conviction? You speak in contradictions, demon, accusing me of putting the ends before the means, while you strive to bring back Death! Can you truly think that this is right?”
“No, and I make no presumptions to the claim. That is the difference between you and I. I do not act from the belief that what I do is right or fair, I act out of what is needed.”
“You… you lie,” Just said. He lifted his foot and set it against Loy’s neck. “Again, you lie. You say all of this to make me doubt!”
“No, Just, I say all of this because it is the truth. And I can prove it. Look to events and you shall see my mark upon them all. It was I who convinced Fate that you were meddling with your brother, that convinced her you were meddling with Jem Trask, all so that she would be watching you. It is because of what I said to her, that she sent Loy to investigate you, that she started seeking this heckler lurking in your shadow. Because I told her that you were going after her, that eventually you would be marching on her in Vigil. It was I who killed the moons. It was I who burned Dekahn. It was I who released Rift and sent him to steal the book. It was me, that convinced Cyleste to go to war, who told her that she had reason to fear Magistrate Godahn and Taehrn. Me that sent Bell to serve beside her, knowing that she would see his ties to Taehrn and then have need to fear him. It was me that sent the letter to Entaras Null, placing value on the book. Me who sent Trin Cavahl to retrieve it, who made Planner think of war, and made Wilt think he might be Death. It was me who has put all of this in motion. I did it all. All of it, so that you fools would watch each other, so that you fools would be watching me, instead of meddling with Death!
“Me?” the ghost asked rhetorically. “Yes, Me!”
“Dy- Dydal?”
“No, fool. I am Lu!”
A sudden silence descended on the plaza. Loy lay beneath Just’s heel, still breathing, still moaning, and the only one who made a sound. Sybil did not understand half of what they said, but she was too afraid to speak.
Rage seethed from the swirling chaos of shadows. Her brother seemed stunned as he glared at the creature, his mouth thinning to an uncertain line. The conversation overwhelmed her. She understood almost nothing of what was said, but the ghost on the altar terrified her. But even still, it was Just who she feared most, for what he might do to Loy. She took the silence as an opportunity.
“Just,” Sybil pleaded, “please, do not do this. Do not hurt Loy. It is not like you. Please, let me help him.”
Just swallowed as he glanced at her. His expression wavered with the shaking of his body. But it was not rage that made his body quiver; that was clear by the lack of color in his face. He did not watch her long, his glance was quick and unfocused, darting to every corner and every shadow, finally coming to rest on his heckler. When Just spoke, his voice was quiet.
“Who gave you that name?” he asked.
The demon smiled, a coy shimmer in his eye. “Guess,” it said.
The answer seemed to push her brother over the edge… His lips opened. His mouth hung ajar, his eyes looking hopeless. He no longer stared at the ghost, he stared at nothing, his eyes unfocused, his attention distant. And the shadow seemed to revel in it.
“Do you see it, then?” the ghost asked. “Do you finally understand?”
“I…” Just began. “I will never understand you, demon.” His eyes refocused, his gaze became a glare as his shoulders tensed. “But it matters not. I know you now, I know your game. And I know that I can beat you.”
“Can you now?”
“I can.”
Just turned and squinted at Loy. A sudden wry smile crept onto her brother’s lips. “You don’t care for this boy?” he asked.
“Not in the slightest.”
“He doesn’t matter to you?”
“No. He was but a convenient ploy. A distraction, to appease Fate while my agents did their work.”
Just smiled “As I thought,” he said. “But I know someone who does matter to you… You think that you have won because you kept me distracted? You think you will bring back Death because I have spent my time hunting my Mother instead of watching you? Well, then you are a fool. I have seen enough to understand your scheme, and who is important to it. Your merchant will die, villain. Her death will end her fate, and you will fail.”
Light flashed as Just skipped. Where he had stood, there was nothing, and on the ground, Loy whimpered and writhed in a fevered panic. Sybil breathed a relieved sigh; that he still moved was evidence enough that she had time to heal him. Sybil glanced to the ghost.
“Thank you,” she said. She did not know if she should thank him after all that he had said, but because of his words, Loy still lived.
The ghost watched her, his face unreadable. For a long time, she thought the creature would not answer, and for a moment, she wondered what it saw in her… if she had been one of the puppets in its game, and then it spoke:
“Do not thank me,” it said. “From my words, I will have ended an innocent life, for no reason but to appease your brother’s madness… Already I doubt my words, and not only for the merchant’s sake, but for mine as well… To deter him, I was forced to become him. To defeat him, I have been forced to say things that would only pass from his own lips… And it was easier than it should have been. In our means and in our motives, we are closer than I feared. We are not
so far apart.” The creature took a heavy breath as it examined Loy. “But this is what we do for family.”
Sybil frowned at him. She opened her mouth to speak, but before the words had reached her lips, the creature was gone.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
Bell watched the man named Wilt from three rows back. Marl had asked Bell to stay close, but for now, he would keep at least a little distance. It was not fear that kept him away, but knowledge. Bell knew what Wilt Bakehmin was. He had his name in the book Bell now kept in his horn satchel. The man was a servant of Justice, and after the marvels he had seen in the palace courtyard, Bell was beginning to realize that he’d had no clue as to what that meant. When his grandmother had spoken of privilege and prestige, she had only touched the surface of what it meant to be the god’s servant.
“Do you think it’s true?” Tel asked. Her voice surprised him. The three of them had been largely silent the last few days. Bell nursing his arm, Bern his broken leg. He couldn’t speak for them, perhaps their silence was due to grief for their fallen friends or for the shame of knowing they had lost in Dekahn, but his own silence was due to wonder. It wasn’t that Bell did not miss those they had lost. He had known Halls and Rich for a long time, back to the days when they had been Trel city guards and Bell a gaoler at the prison, but he was too overwhelmed to process those emotions. Bell’s name was in the name book too, and he feared what might come of it.
Bell glanced at Tel then followed her gaze to the courtesan. Today, Wilt wore no mask, just the robes like Whore Dellings beside him. Scars veined his face. The Rapist’s Mark. It seemed an odd marking for one who served Just, but perhaps it meant that the god believed in redemption. Bell hoped so.
“Do I think what’s true?” Bell asked.
Tel blinked and looked around. She lowered her voice conspiratorially, though it seemed unnecessary for Bell already knew what she was going to ask, and frankly, it was all anyone had talked about since leaving Dekahn.
“Do you think that’s really him?” Tel asked. “Do you think that is Just?”
Bell knew it wasn’t; he had seen Just meet with Cyleste and the god looked exactly like the busts, murals, and statues peppered through Trel’s courthouses and barracks. Of course, that begged the question of what exactly Wilt Bakehmin was, and what that would mean for Bell in the future. The Lockish Hegemon had called Wilt a puppet, but having known Cyleste, he didn’t think the description quite accurate.
“I don’t think so,” Bell answered. As an afterthought he added, “At least, no more so than Cyleste was.”
Bern frowned at him. In the days since leaving Dekahn, Bell had told them everything; the truth about Cyleste, about Queen Tepa, even the tidbit about Skibs and Rise leaving to follow the young god that had saved their lives. While Tel had been skeptical, Bern had nodded the whole way through the explanation, as if the revelation had been exactly what he had expected all along. It was surprising then, that the man would offer him such a puzzled look.
“Your name’s in that book too,” Bern said.
“And?” Bell asked.
“And you’re no different than before.”
“Not yet at least,” Bell agreed. He had seen the things Wilt had done in the courtyard, the wounds he had taken without bleeding or slowing. He didn’t know whether to be terrified or awed. He had always doubted Justice, even when the god was not a tangible thing. While he must admit that such benefits sounded great, they were worth nothing in the service of a dubious master.
“So, what do you think he is, then?” Tel asked.
Bell shrugged.
“Well there’s one way to find out,” Bern suggested.
“What’s that?” Bell asked.
“Go and talk to him, Bell. You’ve got to know what you’re in for, right? Well, go and ask him.”
Bell sighed. Bern made a good point. Cyleste was gone and all Marl could give him was second-hand knowledge from her mother. The Vanduman might be his only chance to find out what he should expect, and what it all might mean for Trin.
“All right,” Bell said grudgingly. “I’ll go.”
Bern smiled. “Great, then you can tell us what the god’s like.”
Bell led his mount to one side and off of the road. Free of the column, he rode ahead and pulled his steed up behind Wilt, Marl, and Whore Dellings. Marl saw him, and before Bell had a chance to approach the Vanduman, she spoke.
“Bell,” she said. “Hello, it’s good that you’re here. We were just discussing our next move.”
“Is there trouble?” Bell asked.
Marl offered him a grim nod. “It seems that our grace period has ended.”
Whore Dellings acknowledged Bell with a quick glance over his shoulder. “The scouts have spotted the Old Guard on our flanks,” he said. “They’ve not been aggressive yet, and the bulk of their forces are on our rear, but they seem to be funneling us toward New Luddahn.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?” Bell asked. “That’s where the scouts say Taehrn and the others are, right?”
“Yes,” Marl said. “And that’s what troubles me. My mother was quite certain that it was Taehrn who… well, you know.”
He did know, though he still didn’t believe it. Taehrn had always been a good man, dedicated to those he loved, to his friends, and to the priesthood. No matter what the Grand had said, no matter what Marl said now, deceit and treason simply didn’t seem like Taehrn at all. However… Marl’s tone made him nervous.
“What are you suggesting?” Bell asked.
Marl sighed through her nose. “Well, if Mother was right, then we cannot know how far his treason goes. We could be walking into a trap.”
“Yes,” Dellings agreed. “The Guard is funneling us in that direction for a reason, and such a betrayal does not seem outside Taehrn Andren’s morals.”
Bell shook his head. “That’s impossible. Suppose Cyleste was right about him – and remember first, that she was wrong about me – then even still, there is no way he could have convinced that large a portion of our soldiers to fight against their own. Think about it, we’ve all got friends among those left with Taehrn. Gods, even the consort is with them.”
Marl gave him an uncertain look. “Is that… Just’s opinion, or your own?”
Though silent until now, Marl’s statement caught the Vandu’s attention. He glared at Bell with a deep, considering frown.
Bell ignored him. “That is my opinion,” he said, and though he tried, he could not keep the displeasure from his voice.
“He does not have advice for us?” Marl asked.
Wilt scoffed. “The god does not take requests,” the Vandu said. “He finds you when he needs you, it is not the other way around.”
Marl gave Wilt a disapproving look, to which the Vanduman shook his head in an amused, pitying way that seemed to say ‘if you only knew.’
“Perhaps…” Dellings said. “Perhaps we should consider our other options.”
“What are you thinking?” Marl asked.
“Well… we could go south or north to avoid this potential trap. For now, the troops they have on our flanks are sparse, more an escort than a real threat. It would not be difficult to break through, and then we could follow the river’s bend around Luddahn to Derlin, or we could go north and strike for one of the forts between Derlin and Riften.”
Marl frowned. “That is a long way to go with the Guard on our heels.”
Bell gaped at them. “And what if Taehrn has not sided with them?” he asked. “We’d be leaving half the Legion alone in the rot with no warning of the Guard’s advance. We can’t do that to them.”
Dellings nodded. “That is true. However…” Dellings looked away.
“What is it, Dellings?” Marl asked.
“Well… there is something we have not yet discussed. With your mother’s death… Taehrn is now the Grand Legionnaire.” The old whore cleared his throat then continued in a lowered tone. “It might be advantageous for us to… bypass Luddah
n and let what might happen, happen.”
Bell jerked back in his saddle. “You can’t do that,” Bell said.
The Vanduman laughed. “Oh, Dellings,” he said. “I always knew you were a scheming rotter.”
Bell fixed his gaze on Marl, praying that she would see reason.
Dellings glanced at Wilt then held up both his hands as if the sign of surrender might absolve him of any guilt for what he had suggested. “I am simply making suggestions,” Dellings said, turning to Marl. “With Taehrn’s death your sister becomes Grand, and you, her First Legionnaire. It is not a matter I take lightly… but it might be best for the Legion.”
Wilt laughed. “And what position would such an act promote you to, Dellings?”
The aging courtesan scowled. “I would remain commander at Derlin, comforted in the knowledge that the Legion remained in capable hands.”
“Right,” Wilt said sarcastically. “And what was it you were saying about the consort? Who is it that’s next in line to be the Whore’s Cult’s favored if he should die?”
Dellings glanced away, the color rising in his cheeks.
Simply watching their back and forth, Bell felt dirty. It was horrifying that men in esteemed positions would even suggest such things – and one of Just’s servants to boot.
Bell turned back to Marl. “You can’t do this, Marl,” Bell said. “What about everyone else with him?”
Marl’s gaze did not meet his, instead, she studied Dellings. “Bell is right,” she said slowly. “Mother would not have done such a thing, and neither will I. It is not just.”
Wilt snorted. “You’d be surprised,” he said.
The comment rattled Bell’s nerves; it seemed an odd statement for one of the god’s servants to make.
Marl scowled at the Vanduman. “Regardless,” she continued, “I have friends and loved ones among Taehrn’s regiments,” – her glare turned back to Dellings, her tone a warning – “including my future brother-in-law and our beloved consort. I thank you for the suggestion, Dellings, but for now, the Legion needs strength and numbers. It can return to playing its games after the Guard has been turned back. No. Unless the god tells us otherwise, we continue on toward New Luddahn.”
Death's Merchant: Common Among Gods - Book One Page 114