Shouts rose outside. The wagon lurched into motion, and all three occupants jerked with it. Telo quickly regained his balance as the movement evened out, taking them to Aveston, city of his birth, as part of the largest army ever gathered in the desert. An army that remained intact because he’d failed to act.
“Second, we’re inside,” Telo continued as if no interruption had occurred outside or within. “All their executions—sacrifices—are done in daylight and outside where Dal can see.” The Northerners had once paused in the process of cutting off his hand to let a cloud pass. That had been his first lesson on their way of thinking. When Santabe did nothing but glower at him hatefully, Telo decided he’d gotten that right.
“I doubt their god needs to witness all her killing,” Teresa said, but she lowered her fists at last.
“Maybe not,” Telo said. “But she wants to make my death lingering and painful, and most of all humiliating. That’s not going to happen in here. She’s willing to wait, aren’t you, Santabe?”
The look she threw him was pure venom.
He pressed on, unwilling to trust his luck. “And lastly, if she kills us in here, maybe it makes her look more innocent, but maybe they take it for guilt. Remove us and she takes away the only witnesses to the blasphemy she may or may not have committed. She can’t really risk it.”
Santabe growled deep in her throat and then screamed, the sound one of long, drawn-out frustration. An animal caught in a trap and furious about it. “You!” she shouted. “You I will make pay as none other!”
He bowed his head to her in acceptance of her challenge. Here was one who couldn’t release hate. So be it. Her stubbornness and animosity matched against his wits and faith. In effect, a reflection of her bloodthirsty god Dal against the Lord’s tolerance. Those were odds he would take. His trust had kept him alive this long and brought him where he wanted to be. The big question remained how long would Ordoño keep them locked in here? Telo’s plan only worked if he had access to the Northern leader.
“I don’t understand what that was all about.” Teresa waved at the walls. “Why did they believe you, Father? Why throw all three of us in here? All because of an earring?”
“Suspicion,” Telo said. “Their society trusts no one. How could they with death the judgment for every supposed crime? Blood must be spilled. They have to find victims somewhere. How better than calling blasphemy at every turn?”
“But that doesn’t answer—”
“The earring is a symbol of high rank. I simply produced Santabe’s and the question became did we take it from her or did she remove it herself? I suspect either case produces the same result—in their eyes a betrayal of their god, where all betrayals bring death.”
Teresa sat on her own pile of sacks. Santabe bared her teeth at him, but kept silent, eventually sinking down to a resting position as well. In the uneasy silence of an unsettled truce, they sat as the wagon swayed them along, and Telo fretted on what he could say to make Ordoño trust him again. If the Northern leader truly waited to speak to them until they reached Aveston, it might be too late.
The Northerners came for them at nightfall. Lord Ordoño didn’t come alone; he brought a handful of guards and three of their priests. As the guards removed them from the wagon, Teresa glanced fearfully at him. Telo touched heart, mind, liver, and spleen, giving her a smile of reassurance, yet inside he felt no such warmth of hope.
The wagon had stopped right on the road in the middle of the army’s temporary camp. Overhead, wispy cloud cover shut out the stars.
A guard set down a folding stool for Ordoño, and the priests arranged themselves into a semicircle at his back. One man and two women, they were the oldest Northerners Telo had seen, each with gray hair and curved backs, a little shrunken from their lost youth. All three wore the sleeveless, white robes of their kinds, completely unadorned and simple, and Diviners hung from their waists. The nearest dropped a bundle wrapped in gold cloth. The sun earring of rank hung from, not one, but both their earlobes. A high rank indeed, Telo guessed. Come not for him, then, but for Santabe.
In proof, Santabe dropped to the ground, placing one knee down and the opposite hand. She bowed her head and remained that way. Telo edged away, putting a small distance from her, and Teresa followed suit, keeping place with him. He gave a brief nod of his head in respect to their age, but he owed no other fealty to the followers of their bloodthirsty god.
“Isn’t it true that priests don’t lie?” Ordoño asked, making Telo shift his feet, unsure whom the man spoke to. Ordoño wore the plain brown coat and breeches that Telo always saw on him, the sort that would blend in on a market day. Yet, the commanding force in Ordoño’s eyes pinned him down. “Father Telo? Your kind speak the truth, even to go so far as insulting old ladies by telling them their hats are ugly . . . unless that old lady should be a rich patron. Then it is permitted to lie. Such is the way of the world.”
Telo found his voice. “Some worlds perhaps. I do not see a reason for insulting ladies, no matter the amount of coins in their purses . . . or the ugliness of their hats. But when Called, we put honesty above all else. Even I can manage to tell the truth when asked.”
Ordoño spoke a word or two to the priests behind him. One answered, then Ordoño said, “They speak our language imperfectly, and I am not much better in theirs, but I believe we understand each other. I ask, then: Why did you come back here? Did Santabe bring you for a reason of her own?”
The calm in the brown eyes facing Telo said Ordoño already knew the answer to that.
A trial, Telo reasoned, complete with judge, jury, and witness. Telo cleared his throat. “I brought her.”
The three priests muttered, but Ordoño held up a hand. “For what purpose?”
“To produce a change of heart in your chest, my son.”
Ordoño seemed to chew on that for a moment, then indicated Teresa. “And your companion?”
“A student of other cultures from the University of Colina Hermosa. She came to learn.”
“Did she? You give me your word on that?”
“I do.”
“And has there been a change of heart at the universities? The last I remember, they didn’t let peasants inside their doors unless they carry a broom. Or is she not a peasant at all? Intriguing.” Ordoño waved his hand as though at a fly. “But enough. That’s not why we are here. Put the woman back in the wagon. She can study us another day.” He followed that up in their language.
Teresa gave a muffled yip as the guards pressed her back up the steps and inside the wagon, and Telo found sweat beginning to form on the back of his neck. His words had consequences for more than just one.
A female priestess—they looked so alike it was hard to tell them apart—held up an earring Telo assumed belonged to Santabe and let off a flood of words. Santabe answered with an equally unintelligible string, keeping her head down all the while and with more humility in her voice than had ever been there before. The back and forth went on for some time before Ordoño snorted and said, “Enough. We achieve nothing with this. You see, the priests of the Children of Dal have no compunction against lying.
“Father Telo, do you confirm this woman was captured on the battlefield by your people, and stayed under duress?”
“I can confirm she was captured by our people and held under duress, yes.”
Ordoño didn’t rise to the reminder of his origin except to lift an eyebrow. He spoke to the gathering behind him, and without waiting for a reply switched languages and asked, “Can you confirm her earring was removed against her will? Consider your answer carefully.”
Ordoño plucked the earring from the female priestess and walked forward with it, depositing it in Telo’s hand. Like most things it seemed simple from afar, but up close complexities leaped out. The sun symbol had been created from a single piece of gold. An easy job to beat a piece of metal flat and round, except the sun’s rays had also been crafted from that single piece and somehow made to project ou
t as individual arcs. A fine work of art, proving there could be beauty even in things perverted.
Ordoño stood mere inches away. Briefly, Telo considered seizing him now and ending his quest. But six guards surrounded them, not to mention three Diviners that could finish his life in seconds. And he was not the man he was . . .
He looked at his raw stub. Like a toothache, it continued to pain him every second of every day. He was only beginning to learn the things he could no longer perform or the simple tasks made ten times more difficult. He doubted his ability to act quickly enough with one hand.
One hand.
A fact owed to Santabe. And now he held her life in that one hand. A word from him would end this trial, and end it in only one way. He could have his revenge, getting justice for many. After coming with the intention to commit the greatest sin known to mankind, what did a few lesser sins matter? They were only lies.
The stubborn streak that refused to bend rose in his heart.
“I . . . I cannot say. I was not there and did not see it myself.” The memory formed clear of the sight of Santabe before she’d murdered Taps. Her hair had been chewed off, her clothing torn and dirty, all done at her own hand, but the earring had been intact. “Yet, I believe it was forcibly removed. I found it among the Alcalde’s things in his tent.” Even as Telo said the words, half of him felt sickened, but the other half soared at standing with his principles.
As the priests muttered among themselves, Ordoño took back the earring and returned to his seat. The smaller female priestess spoke at length, her eyes on Telo.
A bitter little smile crossed Ordoño’s face. “I’m bid to tell you, she thanks you for speaking honestly as a representative of your god, and you’ve grown in their esteem, much as you may care, I’m sure. She wants to know how many days you spent with Santabe.”
“Too many,” Telo said before recollecting himself. “Tell her more than three, my son.”
“And they all wish to know whether Santabe turned her back on Dal during that time or indicated his religion was less than glorious in any way. I’m paraphrasing of course as this is growing rather tedious. We could be here hours more until they are satisfied, but some duties can’t be shirked, much as we would like.” Ordoño’s sharp eyes cut right through Telo. “You could have finished her, and yet you did not. Your enemy lay literally sprawled at your feet. I don’t know whether to admire that or laugh in your face.”
“‘Blessed is the peacemaker,’” Telo quoted. “When you decide, please do tell me.” He glanced at the woman near his feet. All the killings she committed from here on out were on him. Had he done the right thing? Speaking the truth could never cancel out additional deaths. His earlier pride at sticking to his principles was now tarnished and dirty. “We both know she is entirely single-minded and could never consider the ground she stands upon may be built on a fault. She is not the type to change when fortune turns the other direction. Tell them that.” He thought for a moment, when a revelation hit him.
“In that way she is perhaps to be admired. Torture would never make her recant or forsake what she believes.” Telo stood stunned to have found something about Santabe he envied.
“Unlike myself, you mean, who you believe would turn wherever the wind blows.”
“I was thinking of myself,” Telo said distractedly. “My own weakness.”
Santabe shifted enough to look up at him. The hatred in her eyes had not died in the least. It mattered not a jot to her that he had saved her life. She still saw him as nothing but an unbelieving barbarian. Somehow, that constant proved an anchor point upon which Telo clung, remembering his task and why he had come here.
“No,” Telo said forcefully. “She never acted contrary to her religion or scorned your Dal.”
More words broke from the priests even as Ordoño considered him with open speculation. Santabe climbed to her feet with a smile wider than the cat who ate the canary. Ordoño shrugged. “They didn’t understand the half of that, but then they wouldn’t. They did pick out the part important to them and have decided to reinstate our friend. Glorious days indeed,” he said sarcastically.
The priests left their spot and encircled Santabe now, touching the palms of their left hands to her forehead as though in benediction.
Of all the people in this camp, Santabe spoke his language the best. She had to have spent considerable time with Ordoño. Despite Ordoño not rescuing her when he had the chance, Telo had considered her a pet project of the Northern leader. Had he been wrong? “You could have ended this with a word and ordered her reinstatement.”
“Yes, and they’d have her dead the minute my back was turned. What good is a blunt tool?”
“You used me,” Telo said. “You knew I wouldn’t throw her to the wolves.”
“I thought it fairly certain,” Ordoño said. “Santabe isn’t the only predictable one. Occasionally, you must work within the system. Now, shhh.”
Telo followed Ordoño’s gaze and saw the male priest upending the bundle of gold cloth. From out of the middle, he lifted a Diviner colored a frightening red. Santabe gasped as though stunned. Telo couldn’t tell whether she were elated or petrified at the strange spectacle.
Ordoño translated as though in a trance, sending chills down Telo’s spine. “They say they need all their numbers in the time to come. They found this at the site of a massacre. One of their priests torn to pieces along with twelve of my soldiers. Dal has . . . I’m not sure of the word . . . manifested, maybe? It has happened five hundred years too soon.” Ordoño grimaced. “They do get funny ideas in their heads.”
The Northern leader stopped translating, a light of speculation in his eye as he began calculating how to use this to his advantage. He obviously saw this as nothing more than another opportunity. Telo was not so sure. He’d never seen Santabe at a loss for words before. The goose bumps covering his skin refused to fade.
Chapter 31
Teresa abandoned the chink in the wall of the wagon as the guards brought Father Telo in her direction. They hustled him up the steps and through the door. She stepped back to give them room and held her breath until they left, bolting the door behind them. Telo sank on a pile of sacks, his dark skin flushed and sweaty. He slumped, hand and raw stump covering his face.
“What!” Teresa demanded. “Are they going to kill us?” She could see what went on outside perfectly well, but could hear almost nothing. Had the Northern leader given them a death sentence? She hadn’t come all this way to die now. When the priest didn’t respond, she shook him, panic driving away her manners. “Father! Are we done?”
Telo raised his head. “Not yet. At least, not that I know of, my child. It was about Santabe, not us. Lord forgive me, I think I just did something horrible. Yet, to do it another way would have been worse. It was a trial and I vindicated her. I told the truth and set that monster back on the world.”
Relief coursed through Teresa’s veins, followed quickly by compassion. She touched his shoulder. “The Lord forgives all things. You did what you felt was right. Everything happens for a reason, right?” She faltered to a stop, realizing she was babbling meaningless comfort.
“Santabe is just a minor level person in this camp,” she said instead. “I think she has little influence or power from what I saw out there. It’s not your task to become judge and executioner. Will this bring you closer to Ordoño? That’s the true goal.”
“Undoubtedly exonerating Santabe was what he wanted,” Telo said slowly, his gaze locked on the hand in his lap. “It should make him happy with me.”
“He wasn’t what I expected,” Teresa continued, thinking of the ordinary-looking man. “I thought the leader of such an army would seem more . . . well, mad. Less polite country gentleman and more maniac.”
“Ordoño is what he wants people to see.” The priest sat up. “He’s like a mummer on a stage, showing people a false face. I have no idea what the man inside is actually like.”
Teresa sat across from hi
m, the burlap sacks compacting under her weight. “Interesting. Signs of cunning? Or just the nature of a secretive man? Some people are so private about every aspect of themselves. Others couldn’t care less if their emotions are on show. The differences in people have always intrigued me. And did you notice the religious leadership didn’t defer to him? Before they banished me, they didn’t call him by a title, as far as I could tell. Seemed to interact with him on an equal level or perhaps considered themselves above him.
“Though Ordoño didn’t defer to them either,” she continued, “as say an alcalde like Julian Alvarado would have done with our bishop. A fascinating dynamic. I couldn’t decide who was in charge.” Teresa wound down, sliding into her own thoughts.
Telo looked at her for the first time. “Who was in charge? There can be no doubt. Ordoño manipulated everyone out there, without them even knowing. He walked away with exactly what he wanted. He’s worse than a maniac. Saints help us, he’s perfectly in control and aware of what he does, and I might be the only one who can stop him. If I can just catch him alone.”
“Alone?” Teresa echoed. “Can you not talk to him around others? They wouldn’t be able to understand you anyway with the language barrier.”
“I’m not here to talk to him. My role is executioner. I’m here to kill him.”
Teresa sat stunned. “But I thought . . .” What had she thought? Or had she thought on it at all? She’d just assumed he came to talk to Ordoño, remind him of his home and where he came from or something equally asinine. As if real life were a morality tale where the villain would see the side of good and repent. She had been stupid and naïve. The man she had just met was not a one-dimensional character out of a story. He had convinced an entire culture to invade another sovereign country, basically for slaves to satisfy their god. He’d burned her home, destroyed the university, because he could and for no other reason than his own selfish desire.
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