Dark Healer (An Empire Falls Book 1)

by Harry Leighton

  “No. No he hasn’t. Probably dead on some battlefield and they missed him off the records.”

  “True, very true. So many ways to go missing legitimately.”

  “So,” and Wald looked round, “are you thinking defences for us?”

  “Well.” Trimas turned north. “There’s a long beach a mile up the coast…”

  “I think we’d all rather you spent it on the roads.”

  *****

  Trimas and Zedek had done something they’d learnt was an essential and useful part of decision making, and that was retiring to an inn for something to drink and, in this instance, to eat. They’d hoped to talk at the same time, but the village contained just one inn and it was well used, so they’d had to content themselves with sitting in no one’s usual spot, eating a hearty soup based around a mixture of vegetables they knew they’d never be able to guess, and some very good bread. The ale was interesting, a particularly strong variety evidently beloved of returning fisherman, and on the whole, the raised eyebrows and suspicious stares of the locals weren’t too bad, certainly not when you considered what they’d experienced in the past.

  But there was a need to talk, so after the pair had wolfed their meal down they drank up, thanked the innkeeper, and soon found themselves stood outside, a little to the left of the building and at the end of a currently abandoned alley.

  Trimas went first, rubbing the remains of the bread from his fingers. “We need to sort this out.”

  “I knew you’d spend the whole meal brooding about that.” Zedek meant it as a friendly reply, but in his voice it sounded like an admonishment.

  “They think he’s a deserter, he’s anything but.”

  “I realise people get caught up in this sort of thing, and you’re certainly caught up in it,” - as he was letting himself speak in private Zedek’s voice gave it away all too easily - “but what can we do? It’s not like we can walk up to Daeholf’s mother and tell her.”

  Trimas began to smile. “Why can’t we?”

  “Which part of incognito am I not understanding?”

  “No, no, really, I think we tell her, we tell his mother so she knows, and if she has to tell anyone else she can, when we’re gone. It’s his mother who needs to know.”

  “I suppose sending a letter wouldn’t work.” Trimas raised an eyebrow and Zedek concluded, “No it wouldn’t.”

  “Right then, I’ll go find her.”

  “Just you?”

  “Somehow I doubt dealing with mothers is your strong suit.”

  “Agreed.”

  The village wasn’t big so Trimas found a likely spot, made a point to sit down, take his boot off, and subtly look in the direction of a small, wooden cottage. Two women were sat outside, clearly in later age, their faces as battered and worn as the hulls of the nearby boats but their hands still able to repair the nets which lay in front of them. He pretended to study the sole of his boot for as long as he could, then pulled it back on and turned so he could watch the bay but keep the house in the corner of his eye.

  A small boat with a blue sail was just reaching the shore when a woman came out of her cottage and spoke to what could only be her mother and mother-in-law. Now Trimas temporarily gave up being careful to take a full and surprised look at the woman’s face. It was like seeing a ghost. Her hair was longer, and going grey, but there was enough to see Daeholf’s shade of brown, enough to see his mouth and eyes, enough to confirm that this woman was the right age and in the right location to be Daeholf’s mother. As luck would have it, just then she pulled a shawl around herself and walked purposefully off into the heart of the village.

  Moments later Trimas had caught up, dropped into her step, and was walking smoothly alongside her. He was close, perhaps too close if anyone really looked, but he wanted his words to be heard and give a chance for her to carry on as if nothing had happened. So he didn’t turn, just looked ahead, and said softly, “Daeholf isn’t a deserter.”

  She heard, his mother heard, and she missed half a step with surprise, but quickly realised what was happening so kept on walking. In fact, she walked right past her intended destination to keep this conversation going.

  “I know. I – I don’t of course, but in my heart. Did you fight alongside him?”

  “Many times, and I know what he says is true. I know the army betrayed him.”

  “Betrayed?”

  “It’s safer if I don’t go into detail.”

  “But he’s alive?”

  “And well. It’s just too dangerous for him to come back.”

  She nodded, still looking forward, still moving as if they weren’t talking.

  “He was a good soldier?”

  “A credit to his craft.”

  “Will he ever be able to return?”

  “We are… trying to resolve things.”

  “Then thank you for telling me. Confirming it. Will you do two things for me?”

  “Of course.”

  “Tell him I never doubted him, no matter what they said. And come to the docks with me, see my grandchildren, tell him what his nephews look like.”

  “It will be a pleasure.”

  Trimas followed as they looped round and soon found themselves nearing the docks. Wanting to keep up some pretence he began loudly addressing her on issues of how people would react to building. Anyone who passed wouldn’t have been surprised to see them walk along the small harbour, pause where a boat was unloading, and hear the outsider talk about the village’s trade, or hear Daeholf’s mother answer the questions, as she’d lived in the village all her life. They would also have recognised a grandmother’s pride as she pointed with her finger and said, “Those are my two grandchildren.”

  Trimas looked, suppressing a smile. He didn’t need the finger to know who he was looking at, as two young doppelgangers of his friend were working hard to unload fish. Their faces, their build, their intense concentration, you could see it all. For the first time that day Trimas grew sad at the knowledge his friend wouldn’t be able to see this, see his family, because it was so evident there were things he could see that might cheer him, maybe just a little. Trimas would have to do his best to describe things when they’d met back up, but how could it ever be the same?

  He realised he’d drifted off when he heard, just barely, a gentle whisper.

  “Do I have any more grandchildren?”

  It wasn’t the sort of question you’d ask of a soldier, men who’d travelled widely, fought hard and taken what pleasures they could. Trimas was tainted by his own experiences and the knowledge he might have a whole family of bastards spread across the Empire, but knowing Daeholf as he did, knowing the man’s temperament and attitude, he felt he could safely say, “If he has they’ll be well cared for. He’s a responsible man, a credit.”

  They parted soon after, and Trimas could sense in the slow first steps she took, before she’d turned and pulled herself away, that Daeholf’s mother could have asked more, so much more. Trimas watched her go, before feeling a presence by his side.

  “How did you fare?”

  Trimas turned to Zedek and nodded. “Well. She knows. She knows now.”

  “Good. Then I suppose our business is done.”

  “Yes, we might as well—”

  “City bastards!”

  Trimas and Zedek turned as one to see a barrel-chested man put his hands in the air and follow through on his rant to a crowd which had gathered. “How can they keep him, how can they lock him up! Honest prices, that’s what we want, and they won’t let us have them!”

  Zedek turned to Trimas. “Don’t they always suspect the city is misleading them over costs?”

  Trimas pursed his lips. It was easy to think that when you and your friends weren’t getting killed at sea on a regular basis.

  “They’re trying to ruin us… they are ruining us,” the crowd continued, one after another exploding in anger. “They want to make us slaves… they think shutting Brig up will silence us… they’ve take
n Brig prisoner! What if they’ve killed Brig…we should march up there… yes, march and protest… they can silence one of us, but the whole village…!”

  “I think,” Trimas began to his friend, “that outsiders might be about to become very unwelcome.”

  *****

  "It's still bothering you, isn't it?" Jonas said a little later as they rode along the road some distance outside the town.

  "Am I that obvious?"

  "You're quiet, so yes."

  "Okay, yes, it is a bit. I know it’s a violent business and that sometimes people die, but we’re the law. We’re supposed to be doing the right thing.”

  “Which was?”

  “I don’t know. It’s just… it was self-defence. Abusing our position… burying those men in an unmarked ditch. I feel dirty now," Alia said eventually.

  “You’ve had it easy up until this point really,” Jonas said.

  Alia bristled at that.

  Jonas held up a hand. “I can’t speak for what happened to you before we met, but this is the first job we’ve been on together that has gone a bit messy. And it probably won’t be the last,” he said gently.

  Alia relaxed a little, massaging her forehead with her fingers before dropping her hand into her lap. She looked straight ahead.

  Jonas let go of a deep sigh. "Given the situation, there was too much chance of it going bad. Look, I've done a lot of things I'm not proud of. Some I'm embarrassed about, and a few that still haunt me. You live long enough, you'll do the same."

  Alia looked back around at him. "That's what I'm worried about. It's not what I signed up for."

  Jonas smiled at her. "Your idealism is one of the things I like most about you. Don't ever lose it. You just need to temper it a little. Sometimes you need to play a bit dirty for the greater good."

  "I get that. I don't have to like it though."

  “Hold on to that thought for as long as you can. It’s when you stop caring that you need to worry.”

  "Thanks for the pep talk. I think."

  “Now that you’ve got your head straight, it’s time to go over the rules again,” Jonas said, all business once more.

  Alia straightened in her saddle. He was the boss after all. And given what had happened he’d been more than understanding.

  “Rule number one?” he said.

  “Keep a low profile,” Alia replied.

  “Right. And what do corpses do?” Jonas asked.

  “Attract attention.”

  “And what do we not want when we’re hunting for someone who is paranoid?”

  “Yes, I know. I shouldn’t have threatened them when they refused to talk. That started a fight and we had to kill them. Someone important will notice they’re dead sooner or later and our mark might find out. But…”

  Jonas rubbed his face with his hand. “But what?”

  “You announced us as bounty hunters. Doesn’t that do the same thing?”

  Jonas was silent, and looked up for a few seconds.

  Alia decided not to push her luck.

  “I don’t think I had a lot of choice, but okay, you have a point,” he said, exasperated. “My point stands though. You’ve got good skills, but you’re young and there’s no real substitute for experience.”

  Alia looked at him, judging her next comment carefully. “I know. And you’ve got plenty of experience. Your face is covered in it,” she said solemnly, nodding at his scars before smiling at him.

  Jonas looked stern for a moment then shook his head, resigned.

  “Let’s not forget who the apprentice is here. Some respect for teacher, please,” he said. “And for that, you get to make camp tonight while I sit and watch.”

  Alia groaned.

  *****

  The rain was hammering down so hard you couldn’t get into the inn without sploshing through the temporary stream in front of the door, and had you any choice you might have sought out another place to eat or sleep. Luckily Zedek and Trimas were seasoned travellers with strong leather boots, and they entered the inn to drip considerable amounts of water from their cloaks and hats as those inside the smoky room looked up to see who’d just arrived.

  From the darkness of a corner Daeholf emerged and grinned at his friends. “I’d embrace you, but I’d have to sit by the fire for the next hour to dry out.”

  “That wouldn’t do given we’ll be thrown out soon for making the place a marsh.” Trimas shook himself like an angry dog.

  “How was business?”

  “That,” and the rest of the room noted Zedek’s smiled as disconcerting, “was concluded satisfactorily. Very satisfactorily.”

  “Good. But before we talk about that, I’ve someone you need to speak to.”

  “Er,I really think you’ve got to hear what—”

  “A piece of gossip you’ll find very interesting, from a man who has to leave soon.”

  Daeholf was already halfway across the room, so Trimas and Zedek looked at each other, shrugged, and then followed him. Soon all three were stood around a well-dressed and well-fed man who’d been busy boring his ill-dressed but well-fed bodyguards.

  “Lavon, these are my colleagues.”

  Lavon looked up and round, smiled the rotten smile of a mead drinker, and waved at the newcomers to sit down.

  “Lavon here’s a merchant, and he’s come from the capital with some spices.”

  “And a good story!”

  Daeholf caught his displeasure at the odious man’s egocentric belief in his storytelling ability, and instead smiled. “Oh yes, of course. And he’s got some gossip…”

  “News, my friend, news!”

  Trimas smiled the kind of grin that was dead inside, and raised an eyebrow at his friend. “Why do you always make friends so quickly?”

  Realising he was being ribbed, and that the opposite was true, Daeholf just smiled warmly in reply.

  Zedek got to the point. “So what is this news?”

  “Ah, yes, well I’m very well known in the capital,” and Daeholf had to give Trimas the ‘stay with it’ stare, “and while I was concluding some important business all hell broke loose in the Senate.” Now Trimas was interested. “I don’t suppose any of you have heard of the Valades?” As the merchant looked at them all, Trimas kept his face perfectly still. “No, didn’t think so, but they’re a right bunch of bastards, not proper Senators at all, just merchants like me who got lucky. Well they ain’t lucky anymore.”

  Voice perfectly calm, Trimas asked, “What happened to them?”

  “Ah, the bastards got their comeuppance, that’s what. Once a merchant, always a merchant, always trying to buy your way up. Well they bought their seat alright, years ago, they bought that and maybe someone finally got tired of it. They got arrested, got all their land and wealth taken away and were all thrown into the galleys.”

  “All of them?” Zedek said, curious.

  “That’s what I hear,” Lavon said with a shrug.

  Insides wishing to burst, Trimas simply said without emotion, “Old Valades will be dead within a week in a galley. His sons may take longer.”

  “So you have heard of them?”

  “He’s passed through the capital.” Daeholf wasn’t exactly lying.

  “Yes, he’ll be dead, his sons’ll be sucking cock to avoid the lash and his daughters’ll be the most demanded whores in the Great City.” And Lavon started laughing, a horrible chesty laugh born of jealousy and greed. Daeholf started laughing too, because they weren’t who they were supposed to be, because they had to keep the cover, and Trimas turned away to hide the horror on his face. Zedek just smiled, because his laughter was rather off-putting.

  *****

  Shortly after bidding Lavon goodbye, a process which involved them having to drink a mug of ale each together, Daeholf took his friends up to his room. Daeholf stood in one corner, looking into the room, Zedek leaned on the closed shutters of a window, and Trimas dumped himself onto the bed. Daeholf raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

&n
bsp; “I take it you’re familiar with the Valades then?” Daeholf asked, and wasn’t surprised to see his friend’s face grow dark.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “I’ve not seen you like this before,” Zedek said.

  “Fine. They were a magnificent family. Went in three generations from cleaning stables, through trading horses, to running one of the most lucrative companies in the whole empire.”

  “There’s more to it than that though,” Daeholf said.

  “I said I don’t want to talk about it,” Trimas said firmly.

  “Horses then? What else?” Zedek asked, changing the subject slightly.

  “If it had four legs they traded in it.”

  “Chickens?”

  Trimas looked disapprovingly at Zedek, who shrugged.

  “Is it true they bought their Senate seat?” Daeholf asked, expecting Trimas would be able to explain the real story.

  “Yes and no. Yes in the sense money changed hands, but money changes hands whenever the Senate does anything, literally anything. So yes, they did grease palms and smooth the wheels, but that’s not why they became senators. It’s hard to simply buy in without people liking you, and people loved the Valades. They could provide the best horses going. Joining the officer corps? Get a proper Valades steed to show how wealthy you are, because you can’t buy a promotion in that. Want to start a racing team? Get some Valades horses and you’ll get investors. Want to start a farm selling the best beef? You’ve got the idea.”

  Daeholf listened and wondered why his friend was so passionate about this other family. Being a good friend he kept these concerns to himself for now.

  “I know you all like horses,” Zedek began, “but surely that’s not enough to become a Senator?”

  “Not on its own. But having vast cash reserves brings power, as does supplying large quantities of anything to the military. Lots of people had lots of reasons to like them. So they were voted in. And why the fuck not, they’re what the Senate should be about: the best minds, the most accomplished people. That’s what the Senate needs, not ancient families of decrepit, incestuous layabouts.”