She bowed her head slightly. “As you wish, my lord.”
“I have to go,” Terian said, rolling out of bed and finding the heavy plate of his greaves with his toe. He cursed.
“Would you like me to help you put your armor back on?” she asked coolly.
He stopped short of telling her to go to hell and held his tongue. “Yes,” he said after a minute, and he heard her dutifully fishing around below him.
He stood there, still and silent, as she helped him re-dress, one piece of armor at a time. When he was finished, she gave him a perfunctory peck on the cheek. “Come see me again whenever you wish,” she said with her customary coolness.
He started to snap a reply, the rawness still burning from their conversation. A sense of unease settled over him, and he kissed her cheek in return, tasting the faint hint of sweat as he did so. “You know I will,” he said, speaking the truth, because no other words he could summon to mind seemed to matter.
Chapter 40
The door to his house was opened for him, and Terian stepped inside without waiting for the servant’s greeting. The air seemed especially damp in Saekaj today, and he shuddered under his coat as the chill crept over him.
“My son,” Olia said, greeting him from where she sat in a chair in a recessed alcove under the curve of the stairwell.
“Mother,” Terian said tightly.
“Your bride was inquiring about you earlier,” Olia said, somewhat brightly for her. He studied her lined face; it had seemed less worn of late, and she occasionally even smiled.
“Is my father still here?” Terian asked, glossing right over her words. Kahlee can wait.
“In his study,” Olia said, and her brow slumped into a frown. “What is it?”
“Just need to discuss some matters of state with him,” Terian said, heading for the steps and climbing past her. “Typical things, nothing urgent.”
“Of course, dear,” Olia said, and turned her head back to whatever she was doing. “Shall I have Guturan send you up some lunch? You missed eating with the rest of us.”
“I’m not hungry right now,” Terian called back, already halfway up the third floor stairs. “Maybe later.”
Terian halted in front of the study doors. He hesitated then knocked boldly. No point in holding back now.
“Come in,” his father said.
Terian entered, taking care to shut the door behind him. Amenon looked up from behind his desk, which was curiously bare of parchment. “You’re back earlier than I would have expected,” Amenon said.
“Concluded all my other business,” Terian said. He saw a hint of tension in Amenon’s jaw as he spoke, but it faded. “I had a thought.”
Amenon stared at him, lips slightly puckered in distaste. “Is it one I even want to hear?”
Terian faltered. “It’s about the monster.”
Amenon sighed in resignation, then waved a hand as if to shoo Terian away. “It is done, let us put it behind us—”
“Someone put that thing in the water,” Terian said, taking a step forward. “I know you don’t want to talk about this, but it killed Verret, so we should at least discuss it—”
“It happened months ago,” Amenon said, looking at the cold surface of his desk.
“Two months,” Terian said. “Two months in which we’ve yet to discuss it.”
“There have been more important matters to attend to.”
“Verret died killing that thing,” Terian said, feeling the fury rising within.
“He died doing his duty,” Amenon said with a quiet sigh. “If it hadn’t been this, it might have been something else. People die in our line of work, Terian. Don’t be a child about it.”
Terian resisted the urge to chew his lip the way he had when he’d addressed his father as a child. “Did you put it there?”
Amenon’s eyebrows arched downward and the souring effect on his expression was immediate. “No.” His answer didn’t come out quite as a growl, but it was obvious that there was anger behind it.
“Do you know who did?” Terian asked. He stood resolute, in the middle of the room. I won’t retreat on this, even though I can see how much he wants me to just leave.
“I have my suspicions,” Amenon said, standing without warning, armor clanking as he did so. “But this is a foolish path to go down. We take what gain from it we can and we are thankful. It is not our place to probe deeply into the realms of unfounded speculation—”
“Unfounded speculation about who turned loose a monster to starve Sovar?” Terian asked, and the hints of fury started to break loose. “That killed countless fishermen? That killed Verret? Why wouldn’t we want to know who did this thing? This foul thing—”
“Because!” Amenon leaned over on his desk, knuckles of his gauntlets slamming hard into the surface before his voice dove into a whisper. “Because, you fool, it was in all likelihood Shrawn.”
“Shrawn?” Terian lowered his voice to match his father’s. “But why? Why would Shrawn—”
“Because of power,” Amenon said. “And because of revenge. When the last food uprisings happened in Sovar, Shrawn was in charge. No good came of them, not really, and the sting is still felt to this day. The Sovereign is now returned, and he looks upon his diminished dominion, and he wonders who is to blame. His fingers are now on the yoke, though, and—”
“And if Sovar experiences food riots now, with him in command,” Terian said, “he blames the people and not Shrawn.” Terian his fingers under his helm’s edge and pulled it off his head, letting a rush of cool cave air into his sweaty hair. “What a bastard.”
“You must admire the cleverness of the stratagem,” Amenon said, voice low. “He is already feeling the heat of the Sovereign’s ire for the territorial losses we experienced in the aftermath of the last war. The Sovereign’s eye is fixed on his strength, on building the army, on preparing to reassert ourselves as a power to be feared. He pays no attention to events within these caves, and until something dramatic catches his eye, this will continue. Riots in Sovar will awaken him in the most shocking way possible to the idea that even with him at the helm, Saekaj Sovar does not run flawlessly without continued attention.”
Terian closed his eyes tightly. “And if a whole lot of soldiers and innocent people in Sovar have to die to show the Sovereign how ‘weak’ he is—”
“It’s not about weakness,” Amenon said, hissing as he whispered. “It’s about strength. About realizing that even as strong as he is—the God of Darkness—he cannot put his fingers around everything at once. And he will be more forgiving toward those who have erred in the past, presumably.”
Terian thought about it in the cold silence for a moment. “Why would you not say something about this? Why not throw it before the Sovereign and let Shrawn look even weaker than he already does?”
Amenon watched him carefully. “If I had even one ounce of proof, I might do exactly that. But Shrawn is far, far too clever to have left any loose ends.” He leaned forward on the desk and lowered his voice further. “I sent Xemlinan after a smuggler named Boultres Tarrin who regularly runs illegal goods for Shrawn through hidden tunnels into both Saekaj and Sovar. Word reached Xemlinan that he had brought in something especially difficult several months ago, something that required a large, strong, glass container the size of five men. Shrawn had it manufactured by the glassblowers of Aloakna and shipped across the Bay of Lost Souls to the human city of Taymor. From there it traveled under guard to the shores of Lake Magnus where it was met by an acclaimed trio of monster hunters from the Bandit Lands.
“It remained there for a fortnight,” Amenon continued, “then came into the possession of Boultres Tarrin, who brought it into the Waking Woods through a series of rough paths that only he knows. Xemlinan had a man inside his convoy, and this man knew all of the illicit goods in the convoy—gold, silks, powders, dusts and spices—save for those in one wagon in the caravan. When the goods came through the
tunnels into the city, that one wagon was left to the attention of Tarrin himself and two other men. How they got it into the city after that is a matter of mystery to us, but what is not is that a fisherman saw a man fitting Tarrin’s description along with five others charter a boat with a heavy cargo to take them out into the Great Sea. That boat did not return that night and was found adrift later, every last one of the men aboard missing save for Tarrin himself.
“It was the first to disappear,” he finished.
“That’s quite the scheme,” Terian said. “But if you know where Boultres Tarrin is, you could have him brought into the torture chamber—”
“Tarrin is hanging from a tree in the Waking Woods,” Amenon said calmly, “tarred from head to toe so that his body holds together for as long as possible as an example to other smugglers.”
“Shrawn had him killed?” Terian said. “He moves fast, to have him tried—”
“He was not tried,” Amenon said with a slight smile. “He was killed in the act of being caught, you see. He was tarred and hanged after the fact.”
Terian nodded. “And the monster hunters? The glassblowers? The smuggler accomplices?”
“All dead,” Amenon said. “Or missing and presumed dead. Several of the glassblowers were found floating in the Bay of Lost Souls; I would assume the rest will wash up eventually. The dockworkers who handled the shipment in Taymor are also mysteriously gone. The monster hunters have disappeared—they, of course, could have actually gone back to the Bandit Lands, though I very much doubt it as Shrawn is far too much of a completionist to let that particular detail go unattended when he has wrapped up so many others.” He rubbed his palms together once and then pulled them apart as though he were washing his hands. “So there you have it. A conspiracy, murder, scheming, all in the name of helping Dagonath Shrawn to maintain his position by making himself look slightly better in the eyes of the Sovereign.”
“How many people died to accomplish that?” Terian asked.
“Half a hundred,” Amenon said with a light shrug. “Perhaps a few more, perhaps a few less. Does it matter? He failed to accomplish his aim, after all.”
“Are you truly so coarsened that the means he used to reach that end matter little enough to you?” Terian asked.
“How coarse I am to death is of no consequence,” Amenon said with a sigh, once again looking tired. “It was done regardless, and not by me.”
But you would have done it if you could have gotten the advantage from it, Terian thought.
“Consider carefully what you are thinking in this moment,” Amenon said, and Terian watched his eyes narrow. “It is obvious and written on your face. Consider whether taking it to its natural conclusion will make you a greater servant of your family and your Sovereign than letting it be.”
“It’s ‘anything it takes’ at this level, isn’t it?” Terian asked flatly.
“It always has been,” Amenon said, looking weary again, “and you know that.”
Terian felt his head bow. “It never ends, does it? The wheel just keeps spinning and we have to constantly run to remain atop it.”
Amenon sighed and seemed to grow stronger. “That is the very nature of the Shuffle. Favor and disfavor are as obvious as the position of your manor. But it is a wheel that we run upon, and all it takes is a slip to fall beneath its grinding weight.” He gazed at Terian. “Thus far we have escaped that fate, but remember that it is never more than a turn away.”
“What do we do?” Terian asked. “To make sure that—”
“We do what we have always done,” Amenon said and reached out to touch the ruby resting on his desk. “We provide the exemplary service that the Sovereign requires.” He looked up at Terian and for the first time he truly saw the weariness in his father’s eyes, the bone-tired essence that he realized had been there all along, beneath the surface. “Without fail.”
Chapter 41
Terian entered his room to find Kahlee in the corner reading a book by the faint light of a lamp. She looked up as he entered, but she did not smile. The smell of the burnt lamp oil was faint but present, and Kahlee herself wore a bedding gown, ready for sleep. The blue had begun to grow out of her hair, the dye’s effects fading. She wore a look of indifference at his entry and closed the book with a heavy thump as he shut the door noiselessly.
“Wife,” Terian said as he unfastened his breastplate.
“Husband,” she replied with little interest.
“My mother told me you were asking after me earlier.” He removed his gauntlets one by one and laid them upon the dressing table.
“I was merely being polite,” she said crisply. “I know you were at the Unnamed and visiting your mistress afterward.”
He halted, his left hand caught halfway out of his gauntlet. “Does this displease you?”
“It does not surprise me,” she said. “How I feel about it other than that is irrelevant.”
“It’s relevant to me,” he said, removing the other gauntlet slowly, as though it might rattle and drown out her reply.
“Ours is an arranged marriage,” she said, “a matter of duty, and thus my feelings are also irrelevant—even to you.”
“I see,” he said, beginning to remove his boots, taking care not to make excess noise by kicking them off. “Then I take it your feelings are not greatest enthusiasm and pleasure.”
“Your sense for these things is exceptional,” she said acidly. “I have one task before me, one task that our ridiculous and suppressive society levies upon me, and you are wasting your seed with a mistress before I have even borne you one child.” She let out a disgusted noise. “Not that I care for myself, you understand, as the thought of bearing your offspring is a dose of water straight out of the morning chamber pot—but I have my duty, and I would not fail my house in this matter.”
Terian blinked. “Bearing my child is like drinking from a full chamber pot?”
She did not flinch away when answering. “And only slightly less likely to result in some form of plague being introduced to my body, based on the murky inkpot in which you dip your quill.”
“Gods,” Terian cursed, slipping his helm off and placing it on the corner table.
“I hope you keep your blaspheming tongue in your head outside of our chambers,” Kahlee said thinly. “Lest the Sovereign find you out and disgrace us all.”
“Most of the time I do,” Terian said. “But about my other activities—”
“I have no interest in discussing them further,” Kahlee said with another noise of disgust. “You know what you are doing, I know what you are doing. We need not delve into the details of your wanderings. Just realize that I am not a fool.”
“I never thought you were,” he said quietly. “But much like everything else in this city, there are expectations—”
“That you must follow?” Kahlee let out a sharp, barking laugh. “I can scarcely believe this comes from Terian Lepos. You have made a life of defying convention and expectation—but apparently only when it suits you.” She cocked her head. “Now you’re making a life from obedience that would make a tame vek’tag’s carapace show a blush. Is it mere enrichment that causes you to fall into line with the other good soldiers? Or did the idea of a wife and mistress under your power suddenly make you appreciate the ways of Saekaj that you so recently denounced?”
“Oh, maybe I’m just a hypocrite,” Terian said and felt a resignation deeper than that which he’d seen on his father’s face. “Maybe I’m tired of bucking conventions and trying so hard to fight against the expectations levied on me. I mean, look where it landed me last time—in a cold room in a human boarding house, scraping a living by guarding a warehouse against the predations of ruffians and street urchins. When I rebelled here, in my father’s house, it got me killed by one of his loyal servants.” Terian felt his shoulders heave in a shrug. “Why fight it? I’m here, aren’t I? I made my choices that led me to the dead end in Reikonos, and I m
ade the choices that brought me back here, where I have gold in my pocket and a wife who hates me.” He took a breath and an absurd grin broke upon his face. “One of those is easier to live with, but I’ll cope with both somehow.”
Her lips were pursed in utter disgust, as though she were about to spit on him from across the room. She started toward him, and he did not flinch from her, waiting to see if she actually would spit on him. She did not, and when she reached him she took his hand lightly in hers. As her soft skin brushed against his, he was acutely aware of his calloused, rough, dry hands against the softness of hers. She pressed the back of his hand to her lips, but the fire still burned in her eyes. He let another sigh. “We don’t have to—I don’t want you to be saddled with a burden you don’t want from me—”
“I have a duty,” she said simply and kissed his hand again, harder this time. “I have one duty, one duty in this loathsome place. I may not love you, but I love my family.”
He started to clamp his mouth shut but words escaped anyhow. “That’s a piss poor reason to have a child with me.”
She froze for a moment before she lowered his hand. “It is the only reason to have a child with you.”
He felt a sickness in his gut at her words. “Then don’t. It’s not good enough.”
She glanced down. “Perhaps you’re not the only one who has grown tired of bucking expectations.”
He pulled away from her and removed his breastplate and backplate, hanging them on the carved wooden figure just to his side. He stared at the smooth, rounded head of the carving, a face as blank as the one he felt like he wore even now. “It isn’t right.”
“It is law,” she said from behind him. “Law laid down by our fathers, by our society. It’s their will, and it’s the one thing that will keep our houses together against any storm.”
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