And don't forget Arrow. Still inside the cathedral, still hoping to kill me.
"Meet Wind, and her brother, Cloud," said Brother Scieran. He hardly seemed to mind that she had his own whip cinched around his neck. The words came out in a normal voice, so courteous and courtly that Sword thought – madly – that he and Armor would definitely get along.
Cloud held a hand aloft. Traces of blue began to ripple along his fingertips. Wind moved her hand, and though nothing could be seen there, Sword suspected that there was something deadly in her grasp.
Something crackled. Her hair stood on end. At first she thought it was the same thing that had happened right before Cloud and Wind appeared.
No. Different. This is different.
She was afraid. Not just of the three Blessed Ones before her. There was something afoot that was new and unseen.
She realized the silver threads of Brother Scieran's whip had changed in her hand. They now looked as though they were more gold then silver. And then that gold shifted to platinum, then to a red metal she had never seen and had no name for.
Flame began to play along the surface of the whip. But Brother Scieran did not cry out; showed no signs he even noticed it.
"What's happening?" she whispered.
"I should like very much to answer that question," said Brother Scieran in a low voice. He sounded calm, in control. And Sword knew that was because he was in control. She was surrounded by powerful enemies, she was alone.
And worst of all, she was confused.
She had had a singular purpose in the kennels: to live.
An equally direct purpose on each of her missions: to thwart the enemies of the Empire, to stop those who would kill Malal and destroy the lives of the millions of men and women who called the mountains of Ansborn their home.
But suddenly she felt directionless. Like an air-car with no wheel to steer, driven to the edge of the boundaries of Ansborn, past the ends of the world to be tossed in the storms that always came whenever an air-car went too far.
She had gone too far. Had somehow drifted and was now being tossed too and fro.
She would be destroyed.
The fire disappeared from her whip. And a moment later the whip fell from nerveless fingers.
She felt something sharp touch the back of her neck. An arrow, no doubt held in check by the young man named for such things.
Brother Scieran turned. He unwrapped the coils of whip from his neck and replaced the weapon on his hip. "I'm quite good with this, you know," he said. "But you… you're something else, my dear."
Again Sword thought Brother Scieran sounded like Armor. Again she thought the two men would get along.
If Armor didn't try to kill him as an enemy of the Empire.
Her thoughts spiraled. Spun as the world had done when she woke up. Only this was beyond a physical sensation, and much worse for that.
What's going on?
What's going on?
What's going ON?
Brother Scieran looked at her. "These three want to kill you," he said. "I'd rather they didn't. And if you will give me your Gods' Oath that you won't try to run or kill anyone, I will tell them to stand down."
Sword didn't answer. She couldn't. She felt locked in herself.
The grizzled priest leaned close. "Please," he said.
It was the "please" that got her. Again, like Armor. And like her good friend, she somehow sensed that this man had no ill intentions toward her.
But how can that be? How can they both be good if they both fight on opposite sides?
She had to know. That was her new purpose. She nodded. "Gods' Oath," she said. She raised her arm to the square, hand in a fist. "I'll not run or try to kill anyone. Not until I give warning," she added.
Brother Scieran looked like he was going to object at the caveat. Then he sighed and shook his head. "I guess that's the best I can hope for." He looked over her shoulder. "Put it away, Arrow."
"I don't trust her," said Arrow, his voice hard behind her.
"You don't trust anyone," said Brother Scieran.
"I trust you."
"Then trust me now and put it down!" the priest roared. For some reason the shout actually made Sword feel better; Armor never would have screamed like that, and the difference between him and this man took something away from the sense of the bizarre that had pervaded the last few moments.
She heard a sigh and the arrowhead stopped poking the back of her head.
Brother Scieran nodded. "Thank you, Arrow. You're getting better at listening."
Arrow made a sound that was half growl and half choke. Like he was trying not to start screaming. It would have been a funny sound in other circumstances.
Brother Scieran refocused on Sword. "I take it from your reaction when you came out here that you've seen this place before."
Sword nodded.
Brother Scieran sighed. "And you've taken a Gods' Oath and seemed sincere. So my question is this:
"Why would a seemingly honorable warrior fight for an Empire that she knows kills innocent people and commits mass murders like this one?"
14
"I don't believe you."
Sword was sitting on the same pew where she had awakened. Brother Scieran sat on the pew in front of her, turned half around so he could face her. Arrow and Cloud stood in the aisle, watching her carefully, while Wind stood at the back of the cathedral, still wearing her silver mask and with almost visible waves of danger rolling off her.
Brother Scieran smiled. "Well the wonderful thing about the truth is that it exists irrespective of belief, don't you think?" He shifted a bit. Grunted. "Sometimes I do hate that the Order of Chain says we always have to wear our weapons – I'm constantly sitting on my sickle. Which you bent up all to pieces, by the way, so thank you very much for that." He refocused on Sword. "The Empire is not benevolent, the Emperor hardly a kind ruler. You're in the middle of a village that is proof of his 'benevolence.'"
"No," she said. "No, this village was destroyed by a man named Creed, I saw it when I –"
The air changed suddenly. She sensed it before she finished the sentence. She knew she had made some mistake, but didn't know how or what it might be. Only that Brother Scieran held out a hand as though to stop a disaster, and then Arrow stepped forward. "When you what?" he demanded. His face was flushed, his nostrils flaring.
"Arrow –" said Brother Scieran.
"When you what?"
"Creed killed all those people," said Sword. "He killed the people in this village. Murdered them."
"When. You. WHAT?"
She was silent. Not knowing what was happening, but knowing she was somehow in more danger than she had been when she woke bound in the cathedral.
"Did you kill him?" said Arrow. The words came as a whisper, but there was no mistaking the tension in his arms, the way his hands clenched around the butt and trigger of his rifle.
"Yes."
He went absolutely still. "And the boy who was with him?"
"No." Like Arrow, she was whispering, but unlike him there was no mayhem in her voice. Only… what?
Shame.
Why? You did what was right. You did your duty.
"But you were there," said Arrow.
She didn't answer. She didn't have to.
Arrow remained motionless for a long moment. Then looked at Brother Scieran. "You had better be right about her. Or Gods' Oath I'll kill her myself."
He turned on his heel and left the cathedral, opening the heavy door so hard that it slammed on the side of the wall with a crack reminiscent of his rifle.
Sword watched him go, then looked back at Brother Scieran. He was gazing skyward. "You can't make anything easy, can you?" he said. Then looked back at her. He shook his head. "Arrow is – was – Creed's son. And the brother of the boy who was also killed."
Sword grew cold. She began to tremble. It had been easy enough to kill a man who was a traitor. Harder when his boy was standing right in f
ront of him. But when she saw what he had done, the rage that had seized her made it so much easier, so… righteous.
But these people claimed he had done nothing like what she saw.
No. I did see it. It happened.
"How do you know?" said Brother Scieran.
"What?" she said, startled.
"Just now, you whispered, 'It happened.' How do you know?"
"I told you. I saw it."
"You were there for it?"
"No." The word felt like an admission of guilt.
"How, then?" He peered at her. "A vision, perhaps? Like you were seeing the past, like you were there?"
"Yes," she said. And now she was defiant.
Worried. I'm worried. You don't fight back against someone you're not worried about. You only fight when you worry you'll lose.
Brother Scieran nodded as though he could hear her thoughts. "And knowing what you know, being a Blessed One as you are," he said, and reached out to touch the black disc she wore around her neck, "certainly you can conceive of no possible way that such a vision could be faked. Not with all the power, with the great Gifts of the Blessed Ones at the beck and call of a corrupt Emperor and his vile Chancellor."
The cold feeling that held her intensified. "No. That's not true. It can't be."
Can't be. Because if it is I've been fighting for a monster.
I've been a monster.
"There's a Blessed One called Seer. We don't know much about her – she rarely shows herself – but appparently she can look through the eyes of anyone she is within a few miles of. And she can also show visions – not like the visions of a mere Eye, these visions can be real or false – to those people. The visions are harder, they're her Second Gift –"
"Second Gift?" the words came without thought, and she realized she was trying to sidetrack Brother Scieran. To stop him from finishing his argument, to stop him from destroying the purpose that had given her meaning, and friends, and life itself.
"The Emperor doesn't tell his servants of Second Gift anymore?" he pursed his lips. Shrugged. "I guess that's not too surprising. Suffice it to say that Seer can send very convincing lies to the minds of those she targets. Can even influence their feelings a bit." He leaned even closer. "Tell me, after you saw the vision did you feel any different?
Sword's jaw clenched. "Yes," she did, remembering the rage that had taken hold of her after she saw the vision.
Brother Scieran nodded. "Seer."
"I don't believe you," she said.
"And now we've returned to the beginning of our conversation," said Brother Scieran. "You do realize that you sound more like a disciple than I do? Not of the Gods, but of the Emperor: when confronted with an evidence, you fall back not on your own evidence but rather on the blind 'I don't believe you' as your primary counterargument." His eyes twinkled. "But you can't base your faith on a statement of disbelief, child. It doesn't work that way."
"I've got more than that," she said. "I've got books. I've got what I've seen on my missions."
"You have books from the Imperial Library, I'd wager. So tell me, do you think a tyrant would be likely to have books detailing his abuses? And as for what you've seen – what you've seen is death in the darkness. Killings and assassinations carried out in the black of night and in the shadows of alleys. Have you ever seen more than that?"
"Yes!" she shouted. "I grew up in the kennels, and the Emperor rescued me from that! So don't you tell me that he's a monster who does nothing but evil!"
Brother Scieran sat back. "He rescued you from the kennels." All the brightness suddenly disappeared from his eyes. "So you were a Dog?"
"Yes," she said. She almost crowed the word. As though she had been in a fight no less real than any she had ever entered into with her katana, and had just wounded her most deadly opponent.
But though wounded, Brother Scieran was still fighting. He looked at the ceiling – or perhaps at something beyond. "He rescued you from the kennels…. Well, mayhap he did. But did you ever ask yourself what kind of Emperor would allow the kennels to exist in the first place? What kind of tyrant would foster a system where rich men and women bet on the deaths of others? Where children murder one another and the mob simply cheers?"
He stood.
"You have never seen the world. Not in the light." He held out a hand. "Come, and I will show you things as they are, and perhaps you will then help us put them back as they should be."
15
They took her outside first. Brother Scieran ushered her out the cathedral to where people had already emerged from their hiding places and were once more hard at work reconstructing their town.
Wind and Cloud still stood behind her, Wind wearing her mask; and Cloud wearing an expression of nearly equal neutrality, neither smiling nor frowning, his eyes focused on some faraway horizon. But Sword could feel that both were completely aware of all that was going on around them, and at a moment's notice would bring their Gifts to bear against her.
Brother Scieran might trust her Oath, but these two did not.
The priest gestured at the work going on outside. "These people have been taxed by the Empire for a generation. And by 'taxed' I do mean 'taxed beyond supportability.' They have suffered without enough food for months and would have died this winter had Creed not siphoned money away from the Empire and sent it to them. When the Emperor – or, better said, the Chancellor – found out about it, he had their village raided and everything they had taken… including their lives."
"Wait, so you're saying that Creed was helping them?"
"Creed was one of the under-secretaries to the Minister of Finance. You know what the Minister of Finance does?" he asked, arching an eyebrow at Sword.
She nodded. "He is in charge of the Empire's moneys, under the Chancellor."
Brother Scieran nodded and slammed a heavy hand on her shoulder. "Excellent, my dear! Yes, that's right. Creed worked under him, and he arranged for moneys to flow into this little place instead of out of it." He sighed then, all joviality deserting his voice. "We hoped he had done it without discovery. But…." He looked at Sword, and didn't have to finish his sentence.
But… he didn't.
But… he was discovered.
But… you killed him.
She suddenly felt like crawling into a deep hole and disappearing.
Why? Who is to say he's telling the truth? You've only his word.
Brother Scieran was watching her, and he sighed. "Still don't believe me eh?" She jerked in place. He waved. "Your mind is safe from me. But your face is without guile. Very expressive." He turned from her and waved to one of the women cleaning up a nearby pile of trash. "Goodwife Banu," he said.
The woman put down what she was doing – Sword noted she put it down carefully, as though even trash should have a place in its pile – and came over, wiping her hands on a once-white apron that was now stained and gray.
"Aye, Brother," she said. "What kin I do for ye?"
"I am so sorry," he said. "But I must ask you a hard question or two."
"It's a hard life," she said. She spit a brown substance to the side, and Sword saw her teeth were stained and pitted. "Ask yer questions."
"Thank you." He looked at Sword as he asked the questions. "Were you here during the destruction of the village."
"Aye. I were in the well. Hid with Goody Zosi and her sons. Saw all, more's the pity."
"And did you see who did all this?" Brother Scieran gestured at the destruction.
Goodwife Banu spat again, and this time Sword got the feeling it had less to do with what she was chewing and more to do with her feelings about the event. "Aye. 'Twere the Emperor's Arms, all red and black uniforms, with a few of his own personal Guard in their all black coverings."
"Do you know a man named Creed?"
"Aye." She touched her shoulder, her forehead, and her other shoulder, making a crude "A" that was the sign of Faith. "Good man. Saved us all many a day." She looked hard at Sword, and Sword f
elt suddenly like she was being judged… and found deeply lacking. "Heard he were kilt by one of the Emperor's dogs."
"Thank you, Goodwife," said Brother Scieran. "I'll let you get back to your work."
She nodded. Spat once more – this time perilously close to Sword's feet – and returned to her cleanup.
"This doesn't prove anything," she said after the woman had gone.
"It doesn't?" said Brother Scieran. He looked amused, which made her angry. How could he look like that when he was not just attacking her body, but seemed to be toying with her very soul?
"Fine, then," he said, and grew serious. "Perhaps we can show you something more convincing. But I warn you… it's going to hurt."
And she felt cold inside. Because whether he had lied to this point or not, she felt he was telling the truth about this.
16
They left her in the cathedral. Wind and Cloud acted as though they were going to remain inside, but Brother Scieran said, "Don't you have work to do?" When they didn't move fast enough, he roared, "Go help, Gods curse you!"
And the two moved so fast it was as though they were children being called to task by an angry father.
Brother Scieran winked at Sword as they left. As though to reassure her that no one was really afraid. That this was a small play they acted out often, and with enjoyment.
Brother Scieran turned away a moment after the two left.
"Wait," said Sword. She almost shouted the word. "Where are you going?
"I've got work to do, too," he said. "It won't be long before the Chancellor's spies find out what's happening here, and then we'll have to run, off to find somewhere else that we can hopefully make a difference."
"But if he'll find out, then won't he just destroy this place again?"
"Maybe, but we have to try."
"What about me?" she asked.
"What about you?"
"What do I do while you're gone?"
"The door's unlocked," he said, gesturing at the front of the cathedral. "But I do ask that if you decide to break your Oath and betray us, you make some noise when you leave so we'll at least have a bit of warning."
The Sword Chronicles: Child of the Empire Page 14