“Warleader, I beg that you give me more time. I swear that I’m doing everything in my power to find Adosh, but I’m only one man. I’ve barely slept,” said the captain, looking up from one knee.
Tobin saw wine had not caused his puffy red eyes. “Give me Belin’s information and keep working on Adosh’s whereabouts.”
Teznak bowed. “Thank you, Warleader. I’ll update you every day.”
“I don’t need to know how close you are, only when you succeed.” He paused. “I’m giving you this extra time because of the change I’ve seen in the watch. Don’t make me regret my decision, captain.”
Tobin walked up to one of the better-looking buildings on the block. Though it needed to be razed like many of the structures around it, the walls at least showed evidence of repair.
Tobin knocked. After a few moments he did so again. He raised his hand a third time when the door finally cracked open.
The man who answered had a head full of gray hair. Though his dark face showed obvious signs of age, it did not possess the wrinkles Tobin had seen in Saruk. Tobin blinked as a younger image of the man flashed through his mind.
“Belin?” asked Tobin.
The former servant of his father’s household nodded and gestured inside. “Come in, Tobin.”
Tobin flinched at the use of his name as most addressed him by his title. He stepped through the door, surprised at the clean smelling air. The space was plain, table and chairs, a bedroll in the corner, and a meager collection of books.
Belin closed the door.
“You don’t sound surprised to see me.”
“I’m not. Have a seat.” Belin motioned toward one of the chairs. “I always assumed that you would eventually seek me out.”
“So you know why I’m here?” The chair creaked from Tobin’s weight.
“I have an idea.”
Tobin found the calm demeanor of the old man across from him unsettling. Belin didn’t hold any sense of awe in the way he regarded his ruler.
Even before becoming warleader, the general populace held me with a higher level of respect simply for being a Kifzo.
“I have questions. They’re about my childhood. Specifically, about my mother.”
“Of course. Ask away, Tobin.”
“Why do you not use my title?”
“My apologies, Warleader. Even after all these years it’s hard to envision you as anything but the boy I knew decades ago.” He inclined his head. “Do you remember those years?”
“No.” Tobin paused. “Some memories are there, but only in pieces.”
“Then how did you find me?”
“My Uncle Cef mentioned your name before his death years ago. He spoke of you favorably.”
“He was a good man.” He narrowed his eyes. “I always wondered if what I heard about your memory had been true or not.”
Tobin leaned forward. “What did you hear?”
“Many things. At least until your father put a stop to any talk about it. Even if those discussions took place in private, one couldn’t be sure who would run back to Bazraki and spill the details in hopes of winning favor. Those who risked talking risked death, or worse.”
Tobin wondered. “Saruk?”
Belin shrugged. “There was a rumor that a shaman got hold of him at your father’s command.”
“Well, my father is dead now.”
Belin sighed. “I know. I can’t say that I blame you considering the man he became after your mother died. Still, if someone had told me twenty years ago that you would kill Bazraki, I would have laughed in their face. Kaz, I could see. But never you.”
Tobin blinked. “Kaz? Why would my brother have anything against our father? He was always the favored son.”
“He was not. At least not when I served your father’s house. Bazraki loved you more.”
Tobin’s mouth hung open as every insult and embarrassment his father handed out came back to him. Not one kind word had ever been said to him until the very end. After he became warleader.
And even then it had just been to use me in the hope that Kaz would one day return and take my place.
Tobin’s hand shot out, wrapping around Belin’s throat. He stood and lifted the man to his feet, bending him back over the table. “Do not lie to me, old man.”
“I’m not lying,” Belin rasped.
“You are! My father hated me!”
“Not when you were boys.” Tobin eased his grip. “You were the more aggressive son. The stronger one. You used to embarrass Kaz almost daily. Your brother would run to your mother for support. She loved you both, but because she saw how much your father showered you with praise, she did the same to Kaz to compensate. If your father hated anyone it was Kaz. He was the eldest, and Bazraki expected more from him.”
Tobin felt like someone had knifed him in the gut. He pushed the old man down into his chair and sat again in the other. He rubbed at his eyes, trying to process the information. The newer images he had remembered of his childhood coincided with what Belin had told him. Tobin had been the aggressor, the one to beat Kaz despite being younger.
But then our roles reversed.
“I don’t understand,” Tobin whispered. “What changed?”
“You mean why did your father make your life so much harder? Why did Kaz begin to bully you?” Belin shrugged. “You would have to ask them.”
“I did ask them!” screamed Tobin as his anger flared. He lowered his voice, looking at the ceiling filled with rotted out boards. “Kaz beat me senseless. I knew I wouldn’t get an answer from him so I never broached the subject again.” He sighed. “Just like I never asked another question about my mother after Uncle Cef stepped in the way of Father after he broke my nose.”
Tobin’s grip locked around Belin’s wrist as he felt the man touch his hand. The old man winced and Tobin relaxed, realizing it had been meant to comfort him. Belin withdrew his hand, rubbing at it with the other. “I’m sorry. I wish I could give you more answers, but I can’t. I only know that things changed after your mother’s death.”
“How did she die? What happened that day? I have these . . . nightmares about it, but I can’t piece them together.”
“I only know rumors.”
“Tell them to me. Anything.”
“No.”
Tobin squeezed his hands into fists. “No?”
“No,” said Belin as he eyed Tobin’s hands. “They will only anger you, and in the end, are likely false.” He rubbed at his throat. “I’ve already seen a piece of that anger. And I’ve heard stories from the last campaign. How many of those are true?”
Tobin looked away. He thought of the village of children fleeing in the rain from the atrocities he had committed. And then there is Odala. Melat. The list goes on.
“I see.” Belin paused.
“Who does know the truth about my mother? Someone must.”
“Only one person other than you and your brother witnessed the thing. He would be the person to ask, if you can find him.”
“Who?”
“Adosh.”
Of course. “I know the name. I haven’t been able to locate him.”
“That’s all I can give you, I’m afraid. Adosh disappeared shortly after Bazraki dismissed me and the rest of the household after your mother died.”
“Why would Father do that?”
“Most likely because the reminders were too painful. Bazraki was a cruel man, but he loved your mother about as much as a man could love a woman.”
Tobin snorted. “I find it hard to imagine my father loving anyone.”
“Then you really must not remember your mother.”
Tobin hung his head. “No, I don’t.” He bit his lip and looked up. “Will you tell me about her?”
Belin closed his eyes. “Yes.” A smile formed on his face as he began. “Her name was Genese, and she was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. When she entered a room . . .”
* * *
Belin talked for hou
rs about Tobin’s mother. Tobin soaked it in. He learned her favorite food, her favorite color, that she used to hum while working on flowers in a small garden behind their old home. She was everything Tobin had wanted her to be.
Though some of the stories Belin told him triggered a few memories, by and large Tobin still struggled to remember his mother.
The stories will just have to do.
Belin had surprised Tobin as he left by embracing him. “It was good seeing you. I mean that. I’ve watched you grow up from a distance, and I’m proud of who you’ve become as a man. Especially in light of everything working against you.”
Tobin pulled away. “How can you say that? You admitted you heard the stories about the last campaign. The things I allowed. The things I did. Awful things . . .”
“Do those things bother you?”
“When I’m in the moment, no. Afterward, they tear me up. They haunt my dreams, and make me question what kind of person I really am.” Opening up to Belin felt natural after speaking with him for hours about his mother.
“Good. If those things really bother you, then work to atone for your mistakes.”
“And what’s to stop me from making more?”
Belin shrugged. “You and you alone. Ask yourself how you can avoid the situations that bring out the worst in you, and then do that. It all comes down to what’s most important to you.”
Tobin nodded. He looked up at the outside of Belin’s house as they stood on the doorstep. The awning hung haphazardly to one side. The mortar between old stones crumbled. “I want to repay you.”
Belin inclined his head. “For what?”
Tobin gestured. “For my father’s mistake of dismissing you. You should not have to live like this.”
Belin leaned out, looking down the street in both directions where houses in far worse condition stood. He shrugged. “No one should, Tobin.” He stepped back into the doorway. “Now, if you don’t mind, I could use some sleep. You know where to find me if you need me.”
Tobin thought of Belin’s words as he walked the dirt streets of the Old District.
“No one should, Tobin.” “. . . .work to atone for your mistakes.”
Not long ago, he recalled criticizing his father for ignoring the original parts of Juanoq and allowing them to fall into disrepair as the city grew.
What have I done to fix his mistakes?
Thin beings with hollowed eyes peered out of windows as Tobin passed. Their clothes looked as worn as the crumbling structures they lived in. Their hopeless expressions tugged at his heart. He grew angry with himself.
The huddled figures hiding in narrow alleys ate at him even more.
The sound of someone weeping pricked his ears. He stepped around a pile of trash and saw a young boy on the ground, no more than four, lying atop a lifeless woman as he cried. The woman looked as though she had been dead for some time.
The boy kept repeating over and over, “Wake up, Momma,” in a hoarse whisper.
Tobin thought of his own mother. His stomach lurched.
I’ve been trying to chase ghosts while others are suffering.
He reached down to the touch the boy. The child grabbed at his mother tighter. He tried to fight as Tobin separated him from the corpse, but he was too weak. Tobin saw the cracks in his lips and that no tears fell from his eyes, despite his broken heart. The child was dehydrated and malnourished. He would die if Tobin did not do something.
Tobin picked the boy up, cradled him, and left the district. His anger flared hotter than it ever had.
I’ve forgotten everything I said I would do if I had the power I hold now. I could have let my father’s plans fall away and be content with ruling the Blue Islands and those he had already conquered, but I pushed on and caused more suffering than either he or Kaz ever had. I could have taken care of the poor and hungry. Instead, I continued expanding the city while looking toward next year’s campaign. I obsessed over Lucia who never loved me. And I obsessed over my mother, a woman dead to me for years.
That changes now.
* * *
Jober paused in the doorway to his personal quarters. Lucia and his wife looked up at him from their seats. Both had tears in their eyes.
Good. Lucia finally talked to Hielle.
“I’ll come back later.”
“No,” said Lucia. “I need to talk to you about this too.”
Jober hesitated at Lucia’s tone. He closed the door and walked over to Hielle, taking the chair next to his wife. He gave her a questioning look, but she gave away nothing. She squeezed his hand.
Jober faced Lucia. She looked at her hands as they lightly touched her stomach. “Are you still feeling ill?” he asked, remembering their discussion in the market.
“Yes,” whispered Lucia. She looked up. “Especially in the mornings.”
A long pause followed. Jober’s eyes widened. “You’re pregnant?”
“Yes.”
“How is that possible? When did it happen? I practically shadow your every move. Who is the father? I’ll . . .” As Jober’s voice began to rise, he felt a tightening of his hand. He looked over at Hielle.
“You’ll listen,” said Hielle.
Jober understood all the unspoken words in his wife’s gaze.
This is hard enough on her. Don’t make it worse. She’s not your daughter. She’s your friend and she came to us for support, not to be lectured.
“I’m sorry,” said Jober.
Lucia let out a sigh. “It happened the night of my and Kaz’s anniversary.”
I knew something was wrong.
Lucia continued. “I was lonely and could not stop thinking about Kaz. I couldn’t sleep so I began walking the halls of the palace. After awhile, I felt no more tired than before so I decided to go to the roof and look at the stars. I wondered if Kaz was doing the same somewhere else. I found Tobin there.”
Jober’s stomach rolled. His chest clenched. He felt dizzy as the room spun. “Please tell me Tobin is not the father.”
“Jober,” Hielle hissed.
He ignored his wife and leaned forward. “Lucia. Please tell me.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “He was upset that night too. He . . . he reminded me so much of Kaz that I got caught in the moment.”
“And you’ve been seeing him since?”
“No. Just that once. I tried to see him afterward because I thought it was what I should do. You know, to move on like everyone tells me I should, but I still love Kaz too much.”
Jober breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. Then perhaps we can see a shaman to get rid—”
A hand slapped his face, cutting him off. He turned to his wife and saw the anger in Hielle’s eyes. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”
“How can you say such a thing?” asked Lucia. “I made one mistake, but I will not make another. This is my baby.”
Jober stood up, angry to be accused of being the most unreasonable among them. “Have you told Tobin about your baby?”
Lucia hung her head. “Not yet. Soon. After all, it is time to face the facts that Kaz isn’t coming back, and whether I love Tobin or not is irrelevant. Our child should know its father. Maybe in time I can learn to love Tobin like—”
“Are you insane?” yelled Jober.
Hielle stood up. “What has gotten into you Jober?”
“For nearly two years I’ve watched Lucia defend Tobin, and act like he is a good person. I’m tired of it. Sit down, Hielle. I will hold my tongue no longer.” He faced Lucia. “What will it take for you to see the truth? You hear the same stories that I do circulating around Juanoq about Tobin.”
“Stories can be exaggerated,” said Lucia.
“Yes. Killing his father. Killing Odala. Killing the woman of the Red Clan warchief on a battlefield. There might be some embellishments on how those things happened, but I promise you they happened.”
Lucia’s face twisted in anger as the tears flowed again. She got in Jober’s face. “So what if the
y happened? You know the kind of man Bazraki was. And I always suspected Odala. She was proven a traitor. As far as the other woman goes, I don’t know what to say. He was in a war.”
Jober balled his hands into fists. He had spent every waking moment since that night Kaz disappeared watching over Lucia, doing all he could to ensure nothing happened to his friend’s wife. He had hoped that if he could protect her, it might atone for his betrayal of Kaz. Listening to Lucia, he wondered if all his effort had been for nothing.
“Why do you keep defending him? He is an awful man. Why do you think your husband hated him so much?”
Lucia flinched. “Kaz and Tobin didn’t get along, but my husband never hated him.”
Jober blinked. “How can you be so blind? I know Kaz kept things from you. To protect you. But make no mistake, he hated Tobin almost as much as he loved you.”
“How would you know?”
How would I know? Because he defended Nareash and lied to you about the truth concerning Kaz’s disappearance!
That’s what Jober wanted to scream, but he knew if he did that he would lose the respect of his wife and the friendship he had built with Lucia.
There has to be another way. A thought struck him.
“Because when we were boys, Kaz told me why he hated Tobin. We were friends when we were in training to be Kifzo.”
“Yes. And you were kicked out. We all know why,” snapped Lucia.
Jober hung his head. “Lies,” he whispered. He looked at Hielle. He had never even told her the truth before. “Kaz and I had the closest thing to a friendship that could be allowed under the training program. We had gone to the shore on one of our rare days off to fish. Tobin’s name came up, and I asked him why he hated his brother so much. He didn’t want to say anything at first, but I guess he needed to tell someone the truth. It had been obvious he’d wanted to for a long time.” He paused. “Kaz said that Tobin killed their mother. Someone overheard our conversation, and it got back to Bazraki. The lies you all know about me were a way to cover the truth when he expelled me from the program.”
* * *
Tobin sat in a blood-red chair at the end of the bone-white table in his dining hall. His advisors joined him for the meal rather than gathering in the war room. He called the impromptu meeting shortly after returning to the palace. He brought up several ideas on revitalizing the Old District and seeing to the well-being of those residents. To his surprise, none of his council argued that money could be better spent elsewhere.
Trial And Glory (Book 3) Page 10