Dellings shrugged and looked straight ahead. Marl stared at him, and when it didn’t seem that Dellings would argue, she nodded firmly.
As the silence stretched, Bell realized this was his chance. “Mister Bakehmin, might I pull you aside for a moment?”
Wilt glanced at him with a surprised turn of his brow.
“I… suppose so,” Wilt said slowly, his eyes suspicious.
Bell looked to Marl. “May we?” he asked.
Marl nodded. “You’re dismissed.”
Bell nodded thanks then gestured ahead of them, away from the column so they might have some privacy. Wilt quickened his mount to a canter, but as Bell made to follow, Marl placed a hand on his wrist and leaned in close.
“Be careful around that one,” she warned. “He’s one of the condemned my mother spoke of.”
Bell’s eyes widened. It certainly explained the odd comments the man had made. And his scars. Unfortunately, it pulled into question whether Bell could trust the man’s answers.
Bell thanked Marl for the warning then rode to meet Wilt. As he did so, he reconsidered what he would ask. During his stint as a gaoler, Bell had spent a great deal of time around criminals. Not all were untrustworthy, or even dangerous, but a man who had earned the ire of Justice himself had to be both.
Wilt glared at his approach. “What did you want?” His tone was not exactly hostile, but neither was it polite. He seemed as unsure of Bell as Bell was of him.
“I…” Bell paused. Something told him it would be best to get straight to the point. Glancing down at his waist, Bell removed the name book from his satchel and held it up for the man. “I just wanted to give this to you.”
The Vanduman stared at the book then at Bell. “I don’t want it.”
Bell nodded. “I just thought… Well, I don’t know what I thought. This is all very new. I don’t know what I’m doing or what to expect.”
Wilt’s forehead sank into a scowl. “Your name in there?” he asked.
“Right after yours.”
The man sniffed. “And are you a fool like the former Grand or a slave like me?” The way he said ‘slave’ made it seem a title, or a caste in the priesthood.
“I…” Bell considered a moment. Bell didn’t yet know if he had signed the book as condemned or chosen, but either way, it had been against his will. “I don’t know.”
“Well don’t worry,” the man scoffed. “It doesn’t matter anyway. The Grand might’ve thought herself something special, but when it comes down to it, the lot of us are fodder. Fools like her are just dumb enough to go along with it.”
Bell felt a chill. Wilt’s words reminded him of Trin. Over the years, she had said much the same, if not in the same way. Bell had always dismissed her, but now that he knew better… Gods, I have to get back to her. I have to help her.
Bell forced the thought away. They were on their way to New Luddahn, where she waited. Trin would be fine.
“Do you know what I can expect?” Bell asked.
“Shit,” Wilt said. “A whole lot of promises that all end in shit.”
Bell was beginning to realize that his fears were correct; he wouldn’t get many substantive answers from this man.
Still, Bell was resolute. He tried again. “Can you tell me what the god is like?” he asked.
Wilt raised an eyebrow. “Cruel. Vindictive. Merciless. Do you think I wanted to become a human pincushion?”
Bell frowned. The man was bitter. Even if what he said was true for the condemned, there was no indication that Bell would join his ranks. Bell pitied him, but it didn’t seem the man could help him; if Wilt had not discovered a way to be happy in the god’s service, then he certainly couldn’t offer that advice to Bell. But it worried him. Queen Tepa had said much the same thing, even going as far as to say that Just had killed a child because the child might become Death. No matter what he did, he could not let the god know what Fate had asked of Trin.
“Well,” Bell frowned. “I shall consider what you’ve said.” Bell glanced at the name book and then returned it to his satchel. With one last look at Wilt, he rode back to the column. In a way, he couldn’t help but feel relieved. Bell knew he had done nothing wrong, and surely the god would see that also. Though he wasn’t sure he felt good about it feeling that way, there was comfort in knowing that Just had rewarded Cyleste while punishing a rapist like Wilt. It was at least… consistent with what doctrine said of the god.
And at this moment, Bell was not ashamed to take comfort where he could.
Wilt heard the laughter before he felt Just’s presence.
You should have accepted it, the god said. That pathetic candle in your pocket, the one you cling to like it’s your own cock, won’t save you from me, but that book just might have.
Shut up, demon, Wilt told the god with a sigh.
What? the god mocked. Have you not wondered why he has one and you do not? Why Cyleste had one and you do not?
No, Wilt said. As soon as it was out, Wilt regretted the word. It was the wrong thing to say, and by now Wilt should have known better. The god was annoying, and showing displeasure in his annoyance was the best way to ensure that it continued.
It is because they have a choice, Just continued. At any time, they can take a pen and strike their name from that book. They can go back to their lives, free of me, my demands, and my imposition on their privacy. Of course, so very few do. In fact, after becoming Sovereign, Cyleste put her name in the book a second time. The god faked a sigh. Oh well, he said. Too late now. You and I have places to be.
Wilt scowled. Unless it is to rejoin the Vandu, whatever you want, you can do it yourself. Better yet, make that young legionnaire do it. He seems eager to learn how quick you can ruin his life.
I do intend to do it myself, the god preened. For this, I wouldn’t dream of having it otherwise, but I am far too busy to walk there in the flesh. Besides. I need you, or at least this sad wreck you call a body.
Why should I help you? Wilt asked the question more from routine than from any hope he might get out of it. No matter how much he complained, by now he knew that he’d be doing as the god asked anyway. Wilt would say no, the god would make his threats, perhaps throw in a few promises, and in the end, Wilt would agree, because truth be told, after all this, this sort of defiance was just too much trouble without a plan to guide it.
The god’s presence scoffed. Are you truly this dumb, or are you just bored? Perhaps I should start shocking you again each time you think something stupid. But while utterly enjoyable, it was just so very time consuming, and time is not a luxury we have any longer.
It was a good question, and a surprising revelation. Surely the god couldn’t have spent all that time watching Wilt’s thoughts, although it would explain the curse’s inconsistencies.
He was determined to fight the rotter, but the right opportunity was difficult to find. How could he fight the god when Just spoke from a distance? What would he do to fight him? Try to kill the man? Wilt was now immortal, but that did not change the fact he had no martial prowess, and as far as he knew, no magic to match the god’s. All he had was his tongue, his skill with lies and words, and that would be his freedom.
Just get to the bargains you will not keep, Wilt advised.
The god laughed. Actually, I was planning to do exactly that. I have been… considering our other arrangements, all the other things I have promised you, and I have decided on a new deal, one with which both of us will be happy.
Oh? And if you do not intend to keep the other deals, how do I know that you will keep this one?
Because, the god said, I think it is time we cut our ties. I grow tired of you, rapist. You are too much trouble to keep tabs on. If Mother truly wants to make you into Death, then she can have you. Besides, if she turns you into that, then it will give me an excuse to do to you what I should have done when we first met.
You mean kill me. Wilt stated. Well, you could certainly try.
You do not thin
k I can?
If you could, I think you’d have done so already. I think you’ve kept me alive all this time for no other reason than because I am impossible to kill. In fact, I do not think you kept me alive beneath that tree. I think you found me that way, that perhaps you used the merchant in an attempt to kill me, and that you have failed because I am already Death.
The god laughed. Now that is rich. Fine, Wilt. Believe whatever you wish. I still have use for delusional fools so long as they behave.
What would you have me do? Wilt sighed.
He could feel the god’s smile. First, tell Marl to take the Legion south. She will meet up with the Settish barges for resupply and then proceed to Derlin by ship. Make certain she sends a messenger to the troops in New Luddahn. Although I like Dellings’ suggestion, I have something better planned for the First Legionnaire.
Wilt gnawed his bottom lip. The god was a liar, there was more to this than he said, but Wilt couldn’t see what. After all, for now, the god had total control, what reason could he have to lie about setting Wilt free? Well, actually, Wilt knew exactly why the god would lie; because he was an asshole.
And what of me? Wilt asked.
We are going to New Luddahn, but of course, you and I must get there before Marl’s messenger.
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
Wilt arrived in New Luddahn, only to find the god waiting in the flesh, in the shade of a tree overlooking the Legion camp. The demon looked haggard, like he hadn’t slept in several days, his eyes bloodshot, his hair disheveled, and his clothing wrinkled. There was blood on his boots and staining his pant leg. A lot of it.
When he saw the god, Wilt paused. The tree was too much like the twisted oak of his nightmares. Wilt stopped in the sunlight, unwilling to cross into the shadows of the god’s realm. If the god’s plan was to string Wilt beneath this tree, he would have to drag him kicking and screaming.
The god watched his approach with a fatigued look. In place of Just’s characteristic, wry smile, he wore a tired frown, his eyes carrying the patient watchfulness common only to grief and despondency. When it seemed the god would not speak, when his gaze continued to linger without any change in his stance or demeanor, Wilt’s unease forced him to break the silence.
“Why am I here, Just?” Wilt demanded.
“To kill,” the god said.
“I am your executioner now?” Wilt asked. “Who would you need to kill that I must do it for you?”
The god cocked his head. “Do not fret, my beloved rapist. You will kill no one. At least, not directly. We are here to punish those who have harmed us.”
“Us?”
“Yes. You will enjoy this too. The man who has spoken to you, the heckler who lives in my shadow, was there with you as Cyleste died. The two of you could have saved her. He has proved himself to be a traitor. It is time that we end his games.” The god frowned. “Why are you so far away? Come closer.”
Wilt flinched. He had never seen the god this disoriented. He hadn’t known about the Grand’s dying until it had been too late. There was nothing he could have done… but he had known about the god’s shadow.
The god must have noticed his discomfort. “What? Have I scared you? Do you think a measly ten feet is enough to protect you from me? Come closer. I am not angry with you. I am angry with him.”
Wilt swallowed his fear and did as he was told. “Then why am I here?” he asked again.
Wilt pulled back as the god drew his belt knife.
“Have you heard of the Blood Call?” Just asked. The god didn’t wait for a response. He lifted the knife to his own wrist and sliced crossways. He lifted the blade, holding it flat before his eyes so he could study the blood as it pooled on the silver metal. “It is a disease that haunts my kind,” he continued. “As the name suggests, it is caused by the blood of another god, by the mixing of disparate blood nodes. It instills in us, a euphoria, a euphoria which creates a false need. An addiction that calls for more blood. What you see here, is the fall of your gods, mortal. This is our damnation, for both your kind and mine, and all from a choice I made as a youngling. All because I slew the god of Death.”
Wilt swallowed. He had contemplated taking the knife and driving it into Just’s neck… but that last part had stopped him. If Just had killed the previous god of Death, then maybe Wilt was not as immortal as he had thought. He needed a way to fight the demon.
“I know that you desire to be this creature,” Just said. “I know that you have hope for my mother to make you into Death, but trust me when I say, that this future is not for you, and not for anyone.
“If my people knew of what I have done, they might condemn me, but the truth is that they caused their own downfall. They chose power and bloodshed over civility and peace. The Call is not a plague, it is a punishment; a cleansing fire which sweeps through the most vile of us all. It purges the violent, rids us of the murderers and the bloodthirsty. None of them could see that. Only I could see that… that it is such an easy thing not to kill, that it is such an easy thing to treat our peers with respect and love… And as such, that it is not a threat for the Call to exist alongside us.”
Balancing the flat edge between finger and thumb, the god held the knife out to Wilt hilt first. “Take the blade, Wilt. It is time the illness is spread. It is time for it to do its work, time for its will to cleanse the Trellish ranks.”
Wilt stared at the blade, too frightened to touch it.
“Do not be afraid,” the god said. “Its contagion does not affect your kind. Take the blade and go into the Legion camps. I will show you where to go, I will show you who to infect. Sometimes it takes more than one death for the illness to take hold, sometimes all it takes is the touching of blood, but I am strong, stronger than most of my kind. A single touch and my nodes will devour our victim. The euphoria will break him. He will not be able to resist the Call’s suggestion, or ours.”
“What…” Wilt tried. “What do I do with it?”
“The blood must touch the flesh. Even better if it gets inside the body, but do not impale. A scratch will do. Now take the blade and go. We have much to do to ensure the precision of our cleansing wrath.”
Looking for an escape, Wilt took the blade and turned to leave. A hand on the shoulder stopped him.
“Not so fast, rapist. I have another gift your flesh must deliver, too. A truth which must be spoken with your voice and delivered by your flesh, so that Trin Cavahl knows who it is that she contends with.” The god slipped an envelope into Wilt’s pocket. It had already been opened, yet he could not see the words but for a single line which marked the front. It was three simple letters, separated by three small dots. Three initials: D.I.T.
“All right, I’ve made a decision, Jem.”
Jem glanced up from the boot in his hand. With Taehrn keeping him at arm’s length, he didn’t have much to do during the days, and he was getting bored. Thinking about how he would kill Taehrn and ruin all his plans could only get Jem so far, and today he had been reduced to polishing his own boots, just for something to do.
Trin stared at him, probably hoping for verbal acknowledgement, but he held his tongue. They hadn’t spoken this afternoon, or this morning, not a word since their conversation the night before. He had sensed a tension in the room the whole day, her going about her morning ritual, leaving to attend to her duties, then returning, all while doing her best to pretend he wasn’t there. It was awkward, but he didn’t know how to break the silence, or make her comfortable again – he had already revealed his soul, there was little else he could do – so instead, he waited, hoping that his presence alone, that simply being here and showing that he was still the same person she knew, would be enough to ease her mind.
After several quiet moments, she shook her head and continued. “All right, here it is, I’ll just come out and say it. That was some heavy shit you told me last night, Jem. The kind of shit that makes a person reevaluate the world around her, but that’s okay because I’ve made a decis
ion. First, I have to tell you the truth. I trust you, Jem. I’ve trusted you since the first moment we met, and you know why? Because you had all the power you could have ever had over me, you had my life in your hands and could have killed me, but you didn’t. That’s enough for me, Jem. That’s enough to show me that despite whatever crimes you’ve committed, you didn’t commit them because you wanted to or because they were in your nature. If they were, I wouldn’t be here now.”
Jem opened his mouth to speak, but she held up a hand. What would she say about his plan to kill Taehrn?
“Now hold on,” Trin said. “I’m not finished. Second, I want you to know that we are okay. I was a little bit shocked last night, but I was shocked because of what it made me realize about myself, not because I lost any liking for you. You’ve had a hard life, but that doesn’t matter to me because you’re still a good person.”
Jem glanced away. “How do you know that, Trin?”
“Because you said so yourself. You didn’t kill your father because you hated him, or even because he hurt you, but because you thought he had hurt someone you cared for. The self-defense would have been good enough for me, but protecting someone else is even better, and even after all that, you still love the blooding man. Now I don’t understand that, I don’t think I ever will, but it proves to me, Jem, that you’ve got more love in you than anyone else I know.”
He didn’t know if that was true. If it were, then he would have forgiven the Legion a long time ago. He wouldn’t be, not only willing, but ready to kill Taehrn… Really, he was just good at making excuses; good at finding ways to justify what he wanted by placing the blame elsewhere.
Death's Merchant: Common Among Gods - Book One Page 115