“This, my dear girl, means you’re busted,” Teo said, a wide grin on his face.
Chamber of Justice, the Capital
Teo
Teo rubbed his hands with glee as he hurried down the stairs leading to the lower part of the jail, the one guards referred to as the Dungeons. The underbelly of the Chambers’ underbelly, he thought and chuckled, as he brought to mind the disastrous meeting with Gella back in May. Every instinct he had told him that the only way the annoying soldier could have found out about his plans was through her unlikely friendship with the priestess. He had made his mission to find out more about Tie, but never had he imagined his obsession with her would have yielded such rich rewards. Now, not only had he demonstrated his worth to Cyrus, but he had also removed one of the few pillars propping up Gella.
He jumped down the final step, ignoring the pain that shot up his limping leg, and beat his fist against the thick door at the end of the stairwell. A small opening slid open, revealing two bored eyes behind the door. They gaped in awe, then the opening slipped back into place and the door flung open. A pungent smell of vinegar, urine and vomit assailed Teo’s nostrils, making him grimace in disgust.
“Lord Teo –”
Teo raised a hand to stop the guard. “Take me to the priestess,” he commanded.
The guard rushed towards the nearest cell, fumbling with the keys hanging from his belt. “You want me to open the door?” he said, thick fingers prying a large key away from the rest.
Teo nodded and the door creaked open. Tie was sitting on the straw-covered wooden plank that counted as a bed, hands behind her shaved head, gazing at him. The amused look on her face annoyed him and he turned his attention to Sam, standing in the corner above a small pile of stinking hay, with his back turned against the door. Teo let out a small chuckle; Cyrus would soon teach Sam a lesson he would never forget – assuming he survived it.
“To what do we owe this honour?” Tie asked him.
Teo stepped into the damp cell, cringing his nose. He had hoped they would grovel before him, beg him for mercy. Oh well, even if they pretended to be brave now, they would break in no time once Cyrus started working on them. “I just wanted to let you know that you’re no longer a priestess. The new head priest has declared you an apostate. Anyone following you will rot in hell, or whatever it is you people believe in.”
“You don’t know much about Themis, do you?”
“Nor do I care to find out.” He leaned towards her to glare at her. “You may have fooled everyone, but I know your kind.” He gestured towards Sam, who had sat down at the opposite corner and was watching them. “He’s one of them, isn’t he?”
Tie cocked her head. “Them, my son?”
“I’m not your son, so cut that religious crap,” Teo snapped. “I know how you take these poor kids away from their homes, brainwash them into obeying your every whim.”
A sly smile played on her lips and Sam sniggered.
“A person only hears what they understand, Teo,” he said.
Blood rushed to his head. “Master Altman, to you. As for you,” - he turned his attention back to Tie – “I’m not one of your children, to be indoctrinated with your nonsense, then turned against their rightful masters.”
“Is that what you are? Mankind’s masters?”
“We are…” He noticed the guard’s gaping eyes, and realised the trap she had laid for him. It would do him no good if everyone heard his real thoughts on religion. “We are the servants of Justice. Themis is mankind’s master, of course. You usurped her place when you taught these children to betray the justices.” He snickered. “They even call you mother, I hear.” He turned his attention to Sam and continued. “Are you prepared to die for this woman? For the woman that tricked you, turned you against your prince?”
“You ever been to the Slums?” Sam replied.
Teo had, once. The memory of the stinky, derelict district, crawling with filthy children, limbless beggars and cheap prostitutes hit him. “No,” he lied.
“Then you don’t know where I’d be; what I’d be without her. Will I die for her? Yes, ‘cause I’d be dead already if not for her.”
Teo let out a sigh. He had hoped to use Sam to find out if his spies had missed anything, but breaking him would take too long. It did not matter anyway; his and Tie’s days were numbered. “Do you even know what Cyrus will do to you?” he asked. He might be ambitious, but he was no monster. He actually felt a pang of sympathy towards the misguided young man.
“Don’t care,” Sam replied and leaned with his back on the wall.
“As you wish,” Teo said. “Guard! Let me out.” The stench of the place was overwhelming him, and he felt the sudden need for fresh air.
As he stepped out of the cell, he heard Tie’s voice behind him. “It ain’t over till the fat lady sings, as the old saying goes,” she shouted at him. “And I haven’t sung yet.” Her hearty laughter echoed in the corridor as he made his way back onto the stairs. What does that even mean? he wondered.
Part Two
“You have your way. I have my way. As for the right way, the correct way, and the only way, it does not exist”
Friedrich Nietzsche
August 306 AL
Ephia
Gella
“Do you think you can manage it?”
“Yes, Teo, I believe I can,” she replied drily, without even looking at the grinning man standing beside her. His mocking tone grated her.
She had been surprised at the speed with which the expedition force had been brought together. It had taken them less than a month to mobilise the necessary troops and a fortnight to reach the first of their destinations, the city of Ephia. Located to Jonia’s northeast, and of little strategic importance, this was an easy target that should offer little resistance. The city stood at the far edges of Jonian territory, a backwater place of little interest to anyone.
They wanted their arrival to be unanticipated, and she had expected to hear city bells ringing urgent chimes to warn citizens of the unexpected threat. Instead, men and women exited through the gates in leisure, walking next to sleepy mules. They should be running in panic to hide behind their walls. Why are they not more afraid?
Upon arriving on the stubby hill that overlooked Ephia, her force had dug trenches and set up tents with the efficiency of a well-oiled machine. By the next morning a camp had appeared, as if out of thin air. She was now standing outside her tent, waiting for Ephia’s Assembly to meet her. She raised her battered binoculars. One of the lenses had cracked, but they were still usable, and from her vantage point she could clearly see Ephia. A tall belfry stood out among the old buildings, its walls decayed, coloured plaster fraying on the edges. Clay roof tiles, covered with moss, shielded people from the morning sun. It was still early in the day, but the August heat would be stifling soon. A flock of wild pigeons circled the belfry’s circular top, adding to the image of a tranquil city, ready for another lazy, quiet summer morning. Cypress green shutters hid away sleeping occupants, while yawning women collected multi-coloured clothes from washing lines hanging from every other window, stealing worried glances at the enemy camp that had sprawled at their gate overnight. And yet, the city’s people did not appear to fear much from them. She studied the tall walls; they would hold them back for a while, but were hardly insurmountable. The reports from Teo suggested only a token garrison was present in Ephia. So, what gives these people confidence?
Not these people - our people, she heard Parad’s voice in her head. If you would take, you must first give. He had hammered that point into her mind back in Petria. Even when they were fighting the Loyalists, he would think of them as future allies; not as enemies to be crushed. This is why she had sent an envoy to arrange the meeting. Teo had urged her to refuse and take the city by force, to raze it as an example to others. She knew better than that, of course, and he was now sulking behind her as a small group of men and women approached.
She tucked away the binoc
ulars, careful not to scratch the dusty lenses, and stepped forward to greet them cordially. “Welcome, my friends. Please join me.”
They exchanged uneasy looks; it was obvious they did not know what to expect. She smiled her widest smile, trying to make them feel comfortable, and almost elbowed Altman, to stop him from glaring at them. With a welcoming motion, she urged them into her large tent, where a servant had set up fresh refreshments.
She sat down at the head of a long table that had enough space to accommodate everyone. Her own chair was taller than the rest, making it clear who was in charge. It gave her a small measure of guilty pleasure to have Teo squirm beside her, a good head below her.
She waited until the servants had poured everyone’s drinks - aromatic juices for most, warm tea for a few - before she wore her most pleasant look and leaned forward. “My friends,” she started, using a motherly tone, “I know you are probably afraid to see us here today. Please let me reassure you, there’s no need for fear.” As she glanced at the men and women at the table, she noticed an amused look on Altman’s face, one of a man enjoying a private joke. Now what? She had no idea what was on his mind and decided to ignore him.
“The Capital knows that treacherous men have led you astray,” she continued in a dismayed tone. “Men who promised you the world, if only you joined them.”
She now leaned back again to leer at them. Most avoided her glare, but a young woman with sparkling eyes did not. It was to her she now directed her attention. “What they did not tell you, is that they’ll let you take the fall for them. Do you see them rushing to your aid? Is Paul Gauld standing beside you?”
“No, but I am,” the young woman said and raised herself to her feet, a sneer playing on her beautiful face. “I am Satori, Paul Gauld’s daughter.”
Gella’s eyes speared Teo. He knew! That’s why they weren’t afraid; they’d been warned of our arrival. And Satori’s not going to be alone; she will have brought an army. That bastard knew, and he said nothing! She cursed him silently, but it only took her a moment to regain her composure. “It is good to meet you, Satori. I take it your father has sent an army, as well?” The woman’s face reddened as Gella continued. “If not, then perhaps you should remember that these people don’t need a girl to protect them, but swords.”
“We have those as well,” Satori blurted out. “Two thousand Jonians and one thousand Antheans, ready to fight and die for Jonia!”
Foolish girl, never reveal your strength to the enemy! Still, Gella had expected this to be an easy target, not to be met by the bulk of Jonia’s army. And what the hell were those Antheans doing there? It was a long way from their city. This called for diplomacy, not a fight.
Gella stared at the men and women sitting around the table, one at a time. “To fight and die for Jonia,” she said, sucking on each word as if it were a bitter fruit in her mouth. “for Jonia. Did anyone hear a word about Ephia?”
“That’s… That’s not what I meant,” Satori said.
“No? It is what you said,” Gella said with a voice so soft that the people around the table had to hold their breath to hear her. “And why Antheans? Has your father run out of Jonian soldiers to defend his friends? Why haul these strangers all the way across the sea?”
“They are willing to fight and die for freedom,” Satori said, jutting her chin at her.
“Whose freedom? Theirs? They have enough problems of their own at Anthea,” – courtesy of Teo, no doubt. “Why would they risk their lives for you? Or did your father’s gold pay for them?”
Satori blushed a deep red and she crossed her arms. “They’re not mercenaries!”
“Oh? Who paid to bring them here?”
“My father, of course, but that’s –”
“Your father paid for hired help instead of sending his own army to help you? Why don’t you good men and women think about that for now, and we’ll talk some more tomorrow?”
She stood up to signify the end of the meeting. One by one, they mimicked her and stood awkwardly around the table, waiting for her to dismiss them. They all stared at their feet, except for Satori, who glared at Gella, and Teo, who had not bothered getting up at all, and was examining the Assembly with an amused look.
“Before you go, one friendly piece of advice,” Gella said with a warm smile on her face. “Prince Cyrus is extending his hand in friendship. All he wants is for things to go back to normal; for peace to reign again in his realm. The prince is true to his friends, but terrible to his enemies. Please, don’t sacrifice your sons and daughters to one man’s ambition. Think it over, and let me know what you decide.”
She waited while the guards escorted the Assembly outside. Teo turned to follow them, when Gella’s icy voice called him back. “A word, Master Altman?”
He went back to his seat and drew a sip of aromatic tea, until the last member of the Assembly had left.
She smiled cordially until the tent cover flapped into place, then spun around and leaned over Teo, her arms squeezing the armrests on his chair in an effort not to squeeze his thick neck instead. “How could you do this?”
“Do what?” he asked innocently.
“You warned them, didn’t you? And then, you didn’t even warn me about Satori, or about their strength,” she hissed, spearing him with another glare.
The look of pretend innocence on his face infuriated her. “I thought you knew who she was.”
He would not even try to deny it, she realized and her ears buzzed with fury. “How would I know? He’s your friend, not mine, remember?”
He rushed to his feet, sending the chair to crash against the floor. “Are you accusing me of something?” he barked at her in mock rage, his face mere inches from hers.
“Yes, I am,” she said, glaring at him. “Are you guilty of something?”
She faced him, struggling to keep her calm. He lifted up the chair before sitting back down.
“Only of my devotion to our beloved prince,” he said and raised the cup to his lips. She noticed with satisfaction the trembling of his hand as he did so.
“Don’t ever cross me again, or I’ll break more than your leg,” she growled and stormed out of the tent.
City of Oras
Lehmor
“Move your elbow closer to your body. Your entire body must move like a single entity. Think of a snake; it has no arms and yet can kill an armed man.”
Lehmor sighed. He had been firing missiles at a hapless round target darting around the room for hours now. “What’s the point? I hit the target either way.”
Oran clicked his tongue. “You lack focus; that’s the point. What’s your target, your goal? Mine is about seeking the perfection within, not about hitting a target. What’s yours?”
“To hit the target?”
“That will come on its own when you’ve mastered your focus. Let me tell you a story. A king has an archery competition on a cliff, overlooking the sea. The best archers from all over the land show up and participate, hitting the target one after another. The last one to step up is a renowned old master. He fires his arrow in perfect form, and watches it overshoot the target and fly into the sea. Everyone agrees he’d won the competition.”
Lehmor rolled his eyes. “He’d be useless in a battle. I like another story better, one Cyrus told me. A master swordsman sees a fly buzzing through the room. Drawing out his sword, he makes a couple of quick swipes through the air. However, the fly keeps on in his flight. An embarrassed student points out that he had missed his mark, to which the swordsman replies, ‘He can fly, but he’ll never shag again!’”
To his surprise, a wide grin appeared on Oran’s face, growing and growing until it burst into a deep-bellied laughter. “Perhaps we should take a break,” he said and patted Lehmor on the shoulder.
Lehmor placed the rod back on the rack and sat on the ground, next to Oran. The old man closed his eyes and seemed to fall asleep. Soon, Lehmor’s mind drifted back to Moirah, as it always did when it stood still. The image
of Cyrus holding her in his arms, making her his, filled his head and he shifted his weight, sighing. How could he ever win her back? Did he want to win her back? Moirah’s image filled him with pain as it grew into a gaping hole in his heart threatening to swallow him. Thoughts filled his mind one after another, pulling his attention in rapid succession. Deciding he could not get comfortable, he stared at Oran’s still face. How he envied his calmness…
“Your racing mind will drive you crazy if you don’t learn to control your thoughts,” said Oran, startling him.
“It’s my feelings that drive me crazy, not my thoughts.”
“You feel pain.”
“Yes.”
“But your body has mended, has it not?”
Sometimes his body felt stiff, especially in the morning, and he felt various aches and pains, but nothing too serious. Thanks to the Iotas’ ministrations, he was better than he had been in a long time. “Yes,” he said.
“So the pain is in your head, not your body?”
“Yes.”
“Is it fear of the future or past losses that pain you?”
Lehmor reflected for a moment. It was the memory of happy times with Moirah, coupled with the realization they may never be together again that hurt him the most; even more than her betrayal. “Both.”
Oran opened his eyes to stare at him with kindness. “The past you cannot change. The future is in your hands to shape. So, what’s troubling you?”
“I wish to see Moirah,” he blurted out. He realised her betrayal mattered far less than he had thought. What he needed was to be with her, to kiss her and reclaim her love. Just as he thought nothing else mattered, the image of her with Cyrus flashed in his mind. “But I don’t want to see her.”
“I see.”
“How can I forgive her?”
“Ah, the illusion of forgiveness. People think they do someone a favour if they forgive them, when in fact they do themselves one.”
Pearseus Bundle: The Complete Pearseus Sci-fi/Fantasy Series Page 39