But knowing what I did, could I settle for that? Living my entire life under the shadow of an untruth?
You know to undo what must be undone.
They’d said that, too, the Gek. Nihil’s earlobes, I’d only turned sixteen a half-season ago. Why was all this landing on my narrow shoulders? I didn’t want to be anyone’s undoer. It sounded like it should be capitalized: The Undoer. Take on the Temple of Doubt, overthrow Nihil, make the planet rotate backward, double the stars in the night sky, flatten the entire universe. Anything else on the Gek’s or S’ami’s list? Maybe unravel the calendar scroll and bring back S’ami’s daughter. Yes, that might do, I thought wryly. Or maybe nothing would be good enough.
And the whole time I brooded, Nihil’s gorgeous tenor rang in my ears, the voice from the mirror. I’d been awed by that voice. If I could’ve kissed it, I would’ve, it’d been so musical, so flawless and thrilling. I remember how I’d felt: that I was truly in the presence of a god.
I couldn’t trust my gut on this one. I had no idea what feelings were true or where my thoughts were leading me. My feet, though, had led me in a maze around the city until I realized I was no longer getting any sense of relief from walking. My dissatisfaction had only grown, along with my confusion which gnawed and nibbled at my sense of balance, at everything that kept my life and my thoughts in equilibrium—the good, but skeptical girl, the unmagical healer—until I didn’t know where to go or what to do with myself or what to think.
Without having any real purpose, large or small, or any sense of direction, here or in my soul (if I had one), I focused on only the smallest tasks I could manage. I could put one foot in front of another. I could breathe the autumn air. In. Out. Crisp and fine. Breezes don’t know gods from demons. I could appreciate that.
I could tug the shawl around my shoulders, adjust my head scarf, tuck in yet another stray strand, and turn toward home.
13
The difference between love and warfare is that love requires thicker armor, sharper weapons, and less pity.
—from Lady Infikta of Ferokor’s Manual of Love Stratagems
He was at the end of my street, watching my house. It took me a few moments to recognize the tall man pacing in front of our gateway, clad in simple broadcloth in the dark colors of the mainland and not his usual armor. By the time I recognized the banged-up, scarred features and shoulder-length mane of black hair, he’d noticed me and had begun striding my way, filled with sudden purpose, even if he bore his customary frown.
I have to admit, I hadn’t missed Valeo keeping his silent vigil in front of my doorway. It reminded me of all the most unpleasant reasons for seeing the Temple Guards here: them watching us for signs of blasphemy or even the faintest misstep. Valeo’d watched over our old house by himself, day and night, and he’d succeeded in seriously unnerving me.
It had been a big obstacle to overcome in learning to like him. And then, just when I had, I’d watched him end my neighbor’s life, and I’d forever see his bloodied hand and that dagger and Widow Reezen’s hooded, limp form. Even if I thought I understood why he’d done it, I couldn’t ever wash the stain of it away.
Did he know he was upholding a faith built on lies? That every order he carried out was done for a demon?
But then he had his own doubts, and that already made him different than most people I knew. I would never have known about Widow Reezen otherwise or about his own conflicting halves. His skepticism became, at that instant, the standard I knew I’d use to judge every person I’d meet from that day forward. If you believed without question, you and I would have nothing in common. The certain path led nowhere.
So while I was less than comfortable seeing him at his old post in front of our new house, even out of uniform, I would at least see what he wanted. Besides, his midnight blue surcoat looked rather smart on him, even if it was large enough to wrap a woolass in, but his ballooning trousers in their gray and maroon stripes hid what I knew were fiercely muscular legs. A pity he hid them.
I checked my sudden heavy breathing and ordered my heart to stop pounding.
Amazing how my body betrays me at every turn, as if this were anywhere near a proper time to be having improper thoughts. I stopped moving as I took in the full sight of his civilian self, with his many cabochon rings, bangles clattering against his wrists, and rows of silver hoops in each ear. I suppose one can’t wear those under a helmet. That was a pity, too.
So he was wealthy. Well, he was a prince, after all. I’m not sure why I should be surprised. Maybe I’d gotten so used to seeing him in pretty much the same armor as all the other lump-headed guards that it was a shock to realize he was, indeed, not like the others. Should I be impressed? I felt like I should be. I let him amble up the narrow street to me until he stopped and gave me a courtesy bow of his head and shoulders. I gave the appropriate curtsy-bow in reply, glad to be wearing one of my prettier Sabbath dresses with its embroidered border. Odd, the things I find myself obsessing over. Why should I care what I look like? Nihil was a demon and a spirit-thief. Valeo was a prince and a killer. What would my wardrobe ever change?
Then again, some things did not have to change, and one of them was the way I was raised. I wasn’t some wild thing living in the swamps. I was a lady’s daughter. It wasn’t much, but it was something.
“Mistress Hadara of Rimonil,” Valeo said. “A word, if I may?”
So it was going to be all formal, was it? I could do that too. “First Guardsman Valeo Uterlune of the something-something unit of the something else, yes. You may.”
Alright, so I was lousy at formalities. At least I was consistent.
Even without his helmet, his expression was unreadable. He didn’t laugh, though, and that wasn’t a promising sign.
I tried again and gestured toward my gate. “We have a nice patio by our hearth.”
“I was hoping for someplace private,” he said.
Mami had warned me about men who want Someplace Private with a woman. That’s how women usually ended up in trouble. And I was all about playing it safe today. I’d had enough turmoil for one day, maybe for a lifetime. I hadn’t forgotten all the promises I’d made my family, either. No more trouble for the wild girl who grew up following Mami into the swamps for herbs and roots. Mami had made a similar promise to Babba, to be dutiful and pious. I had Nihil’s blessing, which meant about as much as a hiccup or a sneeze. But it meant everything to my family, and they meant everything to me.
I led him to the end of our street to a small park, hardly more than a square with a few palm trees and a shady place beneath a citrine tree that was first blooming. I often sat and read on a carved stone seat beneath that tree, but it didn’t look like it would hold two humans, let alone a half-giant and a human. But Valeo brushed petals off the seat and we sat down, each gingerly perched on an opposite corner, no skin or clothes touching, facing the Grand Canal. Very public, very chaste, yet no one could overhear us. And in public, I’d find it easier to resist any temptation to cry or shout or pound his chest in fury. Perfect—if a bit precarious.
Plus, we had the perfume of all those citrine buds to lighten up the air and our mood. But I couldn’t sit back without brushing shoulders. He had massive shoulders, which filled out his surcoat in a way that only an idiot wouldn’t notice. He coughed once and shifted at an angle, as if trying to figure out a chaste way to sit. I did the same until half of me hung over one edge.
“Are you here under orders?” I asked, keeping my voice cool.
“No, it’s just me this time.”
I glanced up and he inhaled, sharp and quick, as if nervous.
“The Azwan of Uncertainty confirmed he led you to believe I was dead.” The air seeped out of his lungs. “That clearly isn’t the case. It caused a misunderstanding. And then I led you to those the gallows. I’m not sure I can explain my actions …”
“You were in a difficult position,” I said. “I understand that, I do. But can I be honest?”
; I may as well get right down to it. The poor man had obviously been stewing about this since I last saw him. He nodded grimly.
“It’s hard, when I close my eyes, not to see you on that platform,” I said. “But I’m trying. I feel I owe you that.”
“You don’t owe me anything. I did what I had to do, and so did you.” His gaze was solemn, and so desperately sad.
I sighed. “You came to apologize for something that now seems like it was a century ago, instead of days.”
“My timing is poor, then.”
“Why would the Azwan let me think you were dead, anyway?” Then again, why not? Nothing either man did ever made sense to me. And all the things he’d said about Nihil, about demons, reeled in my brain, even as I sat there with Valeo. The day shouldn’t be so sunny, I decided. It should thunder and crash lightning and rain torrents of misery. The day you unseat your god in your heart should have storms.
Valeo was somewhere trapped inside some other conversation, however, that had to do with such tiny, unimportant concerns as our feelings for each other.
“It’s as I once told you,” Valeo said. “Nothing can ever come of any friendship between us.”
“And yet you’re here.” I wanted to tell him how sad, how insignificant, our friendship was to the world, maybe the universe. What did anything matter anymore?
“Yet I’m here.”
“And have you been back to the gallows?”
He shook his head. “No. The Azwans found a civilian to pull the lever. They just need a couple guards on hand to keep order. They should’ve done that in the first place.”
“What about not hanging people in the first place?” My lower lip jutted out. It was not the conversation Valeo had come for, but it was the one he needed to have.
“Alright. There’s that.” He gave a slow nod.
“You agree with me?” I was more than a little surprised.
“It’s getting out of hand, is all. I’ve defended the tithe caravans en route to the Temple city. People would outright steal if we didn’t. They deserve what they get. I’m no longer sure your people do, but I’m not willing to disobey and die in their stead.”
“Well, that’s succinct, at least.” I had to admit I didn’t have much pity for thieves and outlaws, either. On that, a portreeve’s daughter and a Temple soldier could agree. Valeo’s candor also felt like a crisp breeze, bringing a sharp crack of cool reality. He could be counted on to be honest, and that, too, was a relief.
“I just came from the Azwan,” I said.
“S’ami? He’s been curious about your powers.”
I nodded. “He wants me to keep developing them and report back to him.”
“Seems wise.”
Valeo obviously wasn’t going to take the opening I was giving him; he just sat there, self-absorbed and silent. I wanted to tell him more, so much more, but I was also aware that I was talking to a man charged with upholding Nihil’s doctrine with a spear who harbored no doubts about whom he’d choose if it came to his life versus mine.
“The Azwan told me some things,” I said, trying again.
“I trust him more than any other person in the world,” Valeo said, meeting my gaze head on. “Whatever he told you, I have absolute faith in him. Absolute.”
I let silence settle over us. There was nothing else on the subject I dared say.
But Valeo had plenty on his mind. “Why did that make you nervous?” he asked. “You’re quiet all of a sudden. I meant only that he’ll take care of you.”
Did I need taking care of? I wondered what about me said helpless. Then again, maybe I should try and enjoy the kindness behind his statement instead of dissecting it like the dead little frogs Leba Mara had me cut up for practice. I was overthinking everything.
“He told me you were dead,” I said.
“Just now?” Valeo raised an eyebrow.
“No, you know what I mean. Why would he do that? How is that taking care of me? How can your faith be so absolute in someone who lies?”
“He thought we’d be gone by now,” Valeo said. “He didn’t know we’d be sticking around until running into each other was inevitable. Would’ve happened sooner if—”
“Yes, I know, I know, if I had actually noticed you,” I said, frowning. “But this raises more questions than it answers. How come—”
“He was trying to protect us both.”
“From what? Each other?”
Just then, our knees bumped together, requiring yet another adjustment and balance shift. What difference did it make if a completely random and innocent part of our bodies brushed? Why couldn’t we just have a lovely day together? Bumped knees and all? And forget all this talk of doctrine and faith and protection?
By way of an answer, Valeo rubbed his hands together and followed my gaze to the many boats floating by. None of them carried goods, as it was the Sabbath, but families were out enjoying a breezy autumn day, picnicking in the mild weather, children’s laughter and singing carrying over to us and mixing with the citrusy aroma. It was a day for being carefree, undisturbed by pyres and gallows that were also resting, at least for a day—a day when even Valeo could relax and prop his elbows on his knees and let the tension release from his shoulders.
I straightened my own posture and folded my hands in my lap in my best imitation of modesty and waited for him to say something. After all, this had been his idea. Then I remembered who was guest and who was hostess and decided a speck of graciousness couldn’t hurt.
“I like having you here,” I said at last. “You’re like my rock. Very little seems to bother you, and right now, maybe that’s something I need.”
“I can be strong, but I’m not a rock, Hadara,” he said, stiffening. “I’m not unfeeling. Not entirely.”
I couldn’t have been more astonished if he’d told me he was indeed carved from stone. “How is it that you can misconstrue that?”
“I admit I want contradictory things,” he said at last. “I want you not to care that I’m a nobleman, but when I thought you didn’t care at all, I didn’t want that either. And now I have no idea what to think. A rock? Am I?”
“You. Are solid and dependable. That’s all I meant,” I said, my voice soft, pleading. “And if I’m supposed to notice only the parts of you that you want me to notice, then please give me a list so I get it right for once.”
I stared at his shoulders, then caught myself and looked down at my hands. My fingers had begun twiddling a piece of fringe.
He chuckled and shook his head. “A list. Alright. Please notice how hard I’m trying to apologize for being a dense rock. You forgive me?”
How could I help but smile at that? I’d have to be as frozen as the Crystal Desert to stay angry. “Of course. Am I also forgiven for being so obtuse and self-absorbed that I could walk right under your nose every day and not see you? Or that you could ever see me as shallow?”
I’d forgotten how deeply he could laugh as he nodded yes. He leaned back and put one arm against the tree—and around me. But not touching. His arm hovered somewhere over and in back of me, brushing against bark rather than skin. He wasn’t going to give into any temptation being near me, and that settled matters for me. Yes, he was strong and well built, but we were friends.
And that made me both relieved and disappointed. All I said, though, was: “It’s a magnificent day.”
That’s what S’ami had said to do—to enjoy my magnificent day—even if everything felt wrong and upside-down. Seeing Valeo was only a hiatus before it all heated up again. I could enjoy this all I wanted, but that warehouse was only closed for the day, and all the items that Valeo and his comrades had seized weren’t going to gather dust for long.
The gallows would start up again, and there would be another body or three or six, as there had been every day since the start.
The whole notion of that warehouse had been nagging at me. I’d even gone to see the building a few days ago, sneaking out of work under the pretense of meetin
g Babba. We’d walked home together, with him joking about his adult daughter escorting him. I hadn’t seen much, except to note where it was.
It wasn’t anywhere near where Valeo and I sat, silently and awkwardly enjoying our day, but it was near in my thoughts. If I didn’t believe in Nihil as a god, or even as someone good, what difference did it make what I did with that warehouse?
Suddenly it hit me. Warehouse. Valeo. It all added up. He could be there—I knew I wanted him to be. I needed my rock to lean on. I wanted to hug him and jump for joy. I had the beginning of a plan, almost. Babba had said to start something, hadn’t he? Maybe those weren’t his exact words; it’d been something along those lines, though.
Start something.
I turned to Valeo. “This doesn’t have to be so awkward, you know.”
“Am I awkward? I guess I’m not a conversationalist.”
“Me neither. But we’re friends, right? You’re going to marry a Feroxi warrior bride with lands and armies.”
“You already made me regret mentioning that.”
“And I’m going to become a healer and marry some merchant or other.”
“Why are we having this conversation, then?”
“Because we’re friends. So you don’t have to sit here thinking how much I get under that thick skin of yours, S’ami doesn’t have to pretend either of us is dead, and I don’t have to worry that I’m being unchaste sitting by myself with First Guardsman Valeo and Nothing More.”
What little I knew about flirting I’d learned watching Dina and other young women with their husbands. Valeo, I was sure, was even worse at it. It made sense to drop the entire pretense and go for less subtle forms of manipulating him into place.
Because I had a plan. And I had … power? No, that wasn’t it.
I just had to make sure I had Valeo.
“You don’t get under my skin, thick or otherwise,” he said, grumbling. “And you’re awfully lighthearted all of a sudden.”
I thought about that a moment, wondering if I’d made a wrong turn.
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